An Extraordinarily Ordinary Life
by Raidermae
Summary: Dr. John Watson has always had the heart of a Gryffindor. When he is introduced to the world of magic and becomes the guardian of the Boy Who Lived, the heart of the lion becomes more apparent than ever. This is the tale of a broken man and an abused little boy who find in each other the strength and courage to learn to live and love again. Eventual slash.
1. An Extraordinary Boy

**_A/N: June 21, 2013 - For my current readers, this is an edited/updated version of chapter one. New readers should be warned that there is description of child abuse. For everyone, it starts a bit slow, but it gets better! I hope you all enjoy!_**

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In a small house at Number 4 Privet Drive there lived what seemed to be a perfectly ordinary family at least to outward appearances. However in this seemingly normal house there lived an extraordinary little boy by the name of Harry Potter.

Harry did not yet know how extraordinary he was, that would only occur to him in the following years. He thought himself to simply be an orphan taken in by his Aunt and Uncle and cousin. Laying on the bed that was too small in the cupboard under the stairs he listened to the conversation taking place outside his door.

Vernon Dursley had just returned home from work. He sounded much more excited than he usually did on a Monday evening, even going so far as to whistle a jaunty tune. Coming through the door he shed his coat from his rather large and rotund frame and hung it on the hook next to him. "Petunia! Good news! My boss has taken us up on our invitation to dinner! He and his wife will be coming on Thursday!"

Turning to his wife who was standing in the kitchen doorway he couldn't help but noticed the rather pinched expression on her face. (Although to tell the truth, her face always looked rather pinched). "We received a letter today, Vernon, delivered by an owl (of all things), concerning the boy."

"What has he done now? You would think he would be grateful to us for taking him in after his useless parents got themselves killed, but all he does is continue to cause trouble! He never learns his lesson, does he?" As he spoke Vernon's face became more ruddy than it already was and he moved over to the locked cupboard door. Throwing open the door, he looked down at the small boy curled up on the bed. Reaching in and grabbing the skinny arm, he pulled the boy from the small space.

"What did you do boy? Who have you been telling lies to? Did someone see one of your freakish tricks?" Shaking the small arm he held with spittle flying from his lips as he yelled "What did I tell you about your tricks? I will not have it!"

Used to his kind of treatment and knowing he had done nothing wrong, Harry looked at his uncle through the large round glasses perched on his nose. Even when his uncle raised his hand and struck him on his bum and lower back, he remained silent knowing that anything he said or did in this situation would only be used against him.

"The letter was from those people. They said they would be coming to take him away, that we were abusing him and that he would be placed where he would be safer!" At this Vernon released the boy and turned to his wife.

" How dare they imply that he is not safe here! He was dumped on our doorstep and we have done nothing but try to make him normal! Is it our fault that he is too stupid to learn? Ingrates, the whole lot of them! Let them take him, he was never wanted here anyway!" Turning back to the boy he gave him a small shove toward the cupboard.

"Get in there boy! I don't want to see you again before you leave!" The door slammed behind Harry who listened as it was re-locked. "How much longer will he be here?"

"They said he would be picked up by Friday." She assured her husband in her strident tone of voice.

"Hmpf. Good riddance, then! At least now the boy won't be around to be a bad influence on our Dudders!"

Crawling back into his bed, Harry curled himself into a small ball. The pain of the blows his Uncle had given him pushed aside for the moment. As he watched the small spiders he shared his space with dangle from the ceiling he wondered what exactly was going to happen to him. He knew the Dursley's didn't treat him the same way they treated his cousin Dudley. They didn't even treat him the way he saw other parents interact with their own children. He hated it here honestly, but couldn't remember being anywhere else. Reaching up beneath the unruly black fringe laying on his forehead he touched the lightning shaped scar. A memory of a pretty red haired woman smiling down at him immediately flashed through his head. He was almost sure this was his mum, though he had never seen a picture of either of his parents. This was the only good memory that he could recall before the Dursley's, and none of his memories here were what most would probably consider good. Rolling onto his back Harry let his mind wander about what was going to happen to him and where he would end up until he fell into a fitful sleep.

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**A/N This is my first published story so please be kind! This is un-beta'd, un-britpicked, and of course I don't own anything that you recognize. I am open to suggestions/ideas, although I do have this story mapped out and I think I know where its going. Right, going to hide off the internets for a while...**


	2. A Witch and a Wizard

**_A/N: June 21, 3013 - This chapter has been updated/edited. Enjoy!_**

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In an ancient castle in the wilds of Scotland a rather wizened man sat behind a large desk and peered at the woman across from him through his half moon shaped spectacles. As he listened he stroked his long white beard and began thinking of all the ramifications and possibilities of what he was being told.

"Albus, I stopped by Number 4 Privet Drive to observe Mr. Potter as you asked. What I found, Albus...it was appalling." Stopping to take a deep breath Minerva McGonagall recalled with no small amount guilt and nausea the scene that had taken place through the window.

"He is small for his age, clearly underfed. He was covered in bruises and flinched at the smallest movements and noise. It was heartbreaking, Albus. They are abusing him in the worst ways. That lumbering oaf of an Uncle is the worst. Yelling at him for every small thing and striking him whenever he's in a mood. The Aunt just stands by and acts like she doesn't notice."

"She had him cooking and doing all the cleaning, waiting on them as if he was a house elf. He's four years old Albus! Four! And that woman had him cooking on a hot stove! He had to stand on a stool just to be able to see what he was doing. He burned himself on one of the pans and all she said was "Dinner better not be late!""

Taking another deep breath she rubbed her forehead. "We left him there Albus, to be treated no better than a slave, to be abused by his blood. We have to fix it, we can't let this continue. He is not safe in that house."

Looking over at her friend and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Minerva tried to push aside the rage that had built in her chest. To treat a helpless boy that way, simply because you were afraid and resentful of what he could do! It was untenable. It had taken everything in her power to remain in her anamagus form and not interfere with what she saw happening.

Continuing to stroke his beard and think for a few more moments, Dumbledore finally shifted forward and spoke. "I am very sorry to hear that we have put the boy into this situation Minerva. You are correct in saying that something must be done. However, young Mr. Potter's situation is unique, so we must tread carefully. He is in danger there, yes, but would be in greater danger in our world. The Dark Lord still has followers who must not find Mr. Potter. We placed him with his Aunt and Uncle because of the blood bond. It was the best way to keep him safe at the time." Taking another moment to gather his thoughts, he continued.

"The best option for keeping him safe from our world is still to place him with a blood relative. Lily Potter's sacrifice of her life for her son's is very powerful magic and it has protected him from his enemies so far. We need to find a blood relative, Minerva, and from what I understand, Lily's family was never large to begin with."

"I've already looked into it Albus. I found a first cousin to Lily and Petunia. A muggle by the name of Dr. John Watson. He is a muggle healer and was a soldier in their Army. When we first placed Mr. Potter with his Aunt and Uncle, Dr. Watson was overseas fighting in the war the muggles are currently involved in. He was invalided home a little more than a two years ago. He lived in London with a flatmate, who has recently committed suicide. He is not in the best of circumstances at the moment, but from all that I observed and learned about him he is a brave, honest, loyal man. A Gryffindor through and through." Processing the information he was just given, Albus looked back toward his colleague.

"You would trust this man, MInerva, to raise The Boy Who Lived?"

Without a single hesitation MInerva looked into grave blue eyes, "I would."

"Then I believe, my dear, it may be time for me to meet Dr. John Watson."


	3. A Doctor and a Soldier

**_A/N: June 21, 2013 - This chapter has been updated/edited. Several changes were made, but none to the overall plot of the story. Enjoy!_**

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It had been ten months since the fall of Sherlock Holmes. John had locked himself into the flat for the first month, not leaving except to attend the funeral and only eating when Mrs. Hudson forced him to. He had been buried in guilt and grief and had allowed himself to wallow there. At the end of the first month, Detective Inspector Lestrade had come by with Donovan and had asked him to come down to the Yard. It was phrased as a request, but John knew that it was anything but. He had gone, with no fuss, and endured hours of questions and snide remarks from several officers on the subject of his and Sherlock's arrest, relationship, and the events leading up to Sherlock's suicide. They had repeated this process many times over the next several months.

The Met were reviewing all of Sherlock's old case files and often John was called to come in to answer questions. Lestrade did not participate in the questioning but was in the room for the entirety of the process. John avoided looking at him as much as possible. He still held Lestrade responsible in part for Sherlock's fall. With John's and several other witness' statements and with the recording found on Sherlock's phone of his last conversation with Moriarty, the MET could not find any evidence of fraud and were forced to drop charges against Sherlock and clear his name. John still had his court date for decking the Superintendent, (he still smirked when he thought about that) but he had a few weeks before then.

Today Sherlock was officially cleared, the Yard going so far as to release a statement and holding a small press conference. He'd made his way out of NSY as quickly as possible, not bothering to stay for questions or interviews.  
Once outside he took a deep breath and turned to make his way towards the tube station, already planning his evening which would consist of a drinking a cuppa while sitting in his arm chair in front of the fireplace. He only made it about a half block before a sleek black car pulled up next to him. Cursing and continuing to walk the car followed him until he was forced to stop for the light on the corner. The back door of the vehicle opened and a voice John could have gone without hearing for the rest of his life called out. "Get in the car Dr. Watson." Giving in to the inevitability of Mycroft Holmes getting his own way, John slid into the backseat of the car and closed the door.

Sitting across from him, Mycroft Holmes took in the new lines that seemed etched into the already weathered face, the bags under the eyes, and weight loss before addressing the man. "Ah, Dr. Watson, thank you for joining me. How are you?"

John could not suppress an eye roll at the condescending tone as well as the redundancy of the question. "As if you don't already know Mycroft. I'm sure the flat is still bugged. What do you want?"

Shifting slightly in the seat and adjusting the grip he had on the handle of the umbrella, the man in the three piece suit looked over John. "I have some business to discuss with you. You did not attend the reading of will. Sherlock left you everything, Dr. Watson, and he was quite a wealthy man, though you wouldn't know it by how he lived."

Looking down and blinking back the tears that had formed in his eyes, just from hearing his name spoken aloud, John cleared his throat before speaking. "Sherlock didn't care about money. Dull, he said, boring. I don't want it Mycroft. Do with it what you will."

As the car turned onto Baker street, Mycroft looked the doctor again. "It is yours regardless whether you want it or not John. He ensured you would be taken care of."

As the car pulled to a stop, John opened the door. He had reached his limit of tolerance today. "Go away Mycroft, leave me be. If he wanted to take care of me, he would still be here and wouldn't have jumped off a roof and killed himself. He wouldn't have made me watch. He wouldn't have left me to deal with the fallout."

Stepping out of the car, John slammed the door behind him and made his way back into 221B. He should be angry he knew, with Lestrade, with Mycroft, with Sherlock especially, but he just didn't have the energy to care at the moment.

Hanging up his jacket, he slowly made his way up the stairs. Walking into the sitting room, he stopped immediately when he saw the strange man sitting in his chair, calmly reading a book as if he belonged there. John looked him over hardly believing what he was seeing. The man had a kind face, bright blue twinkling eyes behind half moon spectacles. A long white beard reaching to his waist, tied neatly with a bit of string. He was wearing long silver..robes? John blinked.

"Who are you?" The man glanced up and placed the book aside. Standing, he smiled.

"Ah, Dr. Watson, I am Albus Dumbledore. I have some business of a delicate manner that I wish to speak with you about." Holding out his hand and waiting for Dr. Watson to shake it, Dumbledore took stock of the man in front of him, noting many of the same things Mycroft had noticed. This was a man grieving, Dumbledore recognized the emotions easily. Approaching the strange man, John shook his hand warily.

"Right, um, would you like some tea? I was just about to make myself a cuppa." Dumbledore smiled.

"That would be lovely, however I took the liberty of making it myself, I do hope you don't mind?" John stared at the man a little thrown off. It had been a long day already and now here was a strange man with 'delicate business' to be discussed. Looking him over again, John could not help but notice that his soldier's instincts were not on alert. This man did not seem to be there to do him harm, but John decided to remain on guard. Looking at the tea service on the coffee table, John sat himself down and allowed this Dumbledore to prepare a cup of tea for him.

"So what is this delicate matter that you wish to discuss with me?" Straight to business then, Dumbledore thought, indicative of a man of action.

"Dr. Watson, it has been brought to my attention that you are the cousin of LIly and Petunia Evans?" John nodded, not sure where this was going. He hadn't seen his cousins in years, though they had been close as children.

"I am sorry to inform you that Lily and her husband James were killed a few years ago leaving their son an orphan. The boy, Harry, has been living with Petunia and her husband since then, but we recently discovered that the boy has not been treated well." John clenched his jaw. He hadn't even known either of his cousins had married or had children, and now he finds out that Lily is dead and Petunia was a child abuser. John, of course, could read between the lines of what Dumbledore had said. He was a doctor after all.

"I am truly sorry to hear about Lily, we always go on well. Unfortunately, hearing that Petunia is mistreating a child does not come as a surprise. I wish I could say differently, but she always was a bit of a bully. It got worse after Lily left to go to her boarding school. How bad is it? Mental, physical,..sexual?" John hated to think of this at all, hated that he had to ask, but he needed to know.

"The abuse is mental and physical certainly, we do not believe that it is sexual." Dumbledore allowed John a moment to take it in before continuing.

"The reason I am here Dr. Watson, is that you are the next closest blood relative that Harry has. Your sister is not fit due to her 'condition'. We would like to bring him here to live with you. However you should know that Harry is a very special boy. Tell me, how much do you know about the school that Lily attended?"

John thought back. He remembered the fuss of Lily receiving a letter to go away to a boarding school for 'talented' children. Being a few years younger than both his cousins, John hadn't paid much attention. He had heard snippets of conversations over the years between his mother and his aunt about how Lily was doing. Then the last time he had seen his cousin, when he was 14, John could remember seeing and hearing things that he couldn't explain. He had been in a tree, hiding from the other mourners after his mother's funeral, well camouflaged in the branches. Lily and Petunia had walked under the tree and sat down.

"I really like him Tuney, but sometimes he is very cruel. He treats Severus so badly." Lily told her sister. Petunia continued to gaze out across the meadow behind the house. "I don't want to hear about your stupid friends, Lily. I'm sure it's not as bad as you make it out to be. You're magic after all, a witch. Why don't you just cast a spell to stop it?" It was said in a bitter tone, but John could read the jealousy even if he didn't understand the words. Witch? Magic? Spells? What were his cousins going on about?

"You know I can't Tuney! It's against the rules!" Petunia just rolled her eyes.

"I still don't want to hear about what you freaks get up to while at school." Hearing her mother call, Petunia stood and returned to the house. She didn't hear Lily's quiet tears or see her pull the picture from her pocket of a young group of boys. John could see the picture from where he was above her, he watched as she traced a finger over the face of the boy in the middle. He was tall, with wild dark hair, a wide smile and glasses. Dressed in robes with his arms around the other boys' shoulders. John would probably not have remembered any of this happening, if it weren't for the fact that after a few seconds the picture began to move. Lily did not seem alarmed at all, just continued crying quietly for a few minutes. John held his breath, eyes wide and round, trying to figure out what he was seeing. Another call from the house had Lily putting the picture away and wiping her face. Climbing to her feet, she dusted herself off and walked away. John remained where he was still not believing what he saw and heard. In the months and years that followed, he would occasionally think back to that day and still couldn't make sense of it.

As he relayed this memory to Dumbledore, the wrinkles in his forehead became more apparent. It was obvious John was still confused, but perhaps would be open to the possibilities more than Dumbledore dared to hope.

"What I have to tell you next would be quite shocking for some, but I believe that you may handle it fairly well given what you have already witnessed. Lily was indeed a witch. She attended Hogwarts School where she met and fell in love with James Potter, who was a wizard. There is a whole world out there made up of witches and wizards, Dr. Watson. We mostly keep to ourselves and keep our own secrets. The reason I am telling you about it at all is that Harry has played a very crucial part in our history. He is known to most witches and wizards as 'The Boy Who Lived.' A dark wizard killed Lily and James and tried to kill Harry as well. Somehow Harry survived and became quite a sensation in our world. Voldemort still has followers in our community and so we placed Harry with his Aunt & Uncle to try and keep him hidden."

Stopping when he saw John's jaw once again flex and his hands curl into fists. Dumbledore waited for John to regain his composure. "Are you quite well, Dr. Watson?"

Nodding his head, he forced himself to relax. All he could think was that this dark wizard sounded an awful lot like Moriarty. Pushing down those memories, he focused back in on the man across from him. "So magic is real, Lily was a witch, and was killed by a dark evil wizard, who also tried to kill Harry, but Harry survived? Is that about the gist of the situation?" Dumbledore smiled and looked at John with twinkling eyes.

"You are incredibly calm about this situation Dr. Watson. Yes that is about the gist of the situation as you say." John shrugged. "Right. I live..lived with a genius consulting detective who did experiments on anything and everything and kept body parts in our fridge. I guess I've learned to expect the unexpected." Dumbledore looked at the man in front of him once again. In loose jeans, a bulky jumper, and boots, Dr. Watson gave off a very unassuming air. Minerva had said he was a Gryffindor through and through, but in that moment Albus thought that perhaps Dr. Watson would have done quite well in Hufflepuff.

"Alright then. So the plan, to bring Harry here. What do I need to do?" A rather surprised headmaster looked at John questioningly.

"Are you quite sure about this Dr. Watson? This will not be like raising a regular child. You may want to take time to think it over." John glared at Dumbledore.

"You came here to tell me that Harry is being abused by his Aunt and Uncle and to ask if I would take him in and now you want me to think about it? There's really not much to think about. I understand Harry is a very special little boy and I will do everything in my power to help him. But I will not leave him in an abusive situation any longer than tell me what the plan is." Impressed once again by Dr. Watson's calm rationale and seeing what Minerva meant about being a Gryffindor, Dumbledore set about giving him a timeline of how events were going to occur. There were magical protections to be put into place around the house and John knew that he would have to finish clearing up the mess of dangerous chemicals and clutter that had always been present in the flat, left behind by Sherlock.

"How long will the protections take?" John needed to know, needed to plan and to get Harry out of his situation as soon as possible.

"It will only take a few minutes to put up the protections, but I would like to have a few colleagues of mine put their own in place as well. The most powerful protection for Harry is already here. It's in the blood that runs through your veins, Dr. Watson. A blood bond is powerful and yours has been enhanced because Lily gave her life to save Harry. As long as Harry calls this place home, he will be protected by this bond." John nodded his understanding.

"I will have to clean this place up and get a room ready for him. I am fairly certain it should only take me a day. Is that alright?" Regarding him, Dumbledore agrees.

"I shall return for you tomorrow evening then and we will go fetch young Mr. Potter. Are you quite sure about this Dr. Watson?" John contemplated the question. Was he sure? No, he was not sure that he could raise a child, but he would not leave Harry in the awful situation he was already in. Sherlock was gone and John was barely keeping himself together. But he would not turn his back on the child, no matter how unique the circumstances were. He was a soldier, a broken one, yes, but a soldier the same. It was time to pull himself up by the bootstraps and get on with things.

Rising from the couch, John ran his hands through his hair once, took a deep breath, and came to attention. Looking into those mischievous blue eyes he gave his answer. "I'm sure."  
Rising as well, Dumbledore held out his hand and after a shake told John, " I'll be here tomorrow evening at half seven with a few of my colleagues. Until then, Dr. Watson."

With a nod John watched Dumbledore walk out the door and heard him walk down the stairs. A loud pop echoed through the otherwise quiet house and startled John for a moment before he realized that Dumbledore must have used some form of magic to leave. He sank back onto the couch with his head in his hands. What had he just agreed to? He was going to be a parent. Oh God, he was going to be a parent to a very special, very abused little boy in less than twenty four hours. A little boy who had magical parents and was going to be a wizard himself. A four year boy who had already defeated an evil wizard. Christ, I must be mad! he thought. Right...okay Watson, deep breath, there are things to do. You can have your mental break later.

Rubbing hands over his face, he looked around the flat at the clutter. He would have to childproof the flat quickly and he was going to need help. Mrs. Hudson, right. She would help. She had already cleared Sherlock's more time sensitive experiments, she would help. Oh god, would she be okay with a child in the flat? After thinking about it for a few seconds, John gave a startled, rusty laugh. Sherlock has practically been a child and probably did far worse damage than Harry would. She would be fine with it, maybe even happy about having a child to spoil. Time to go break the news and beg for help. John jogged down the stairs and knocked quietly on Mrs. Hudson's door. It opened fairly quickly and the kind lady looked at him in concern. "John dear, is everything alright? I heard a loud pop and..." He interrupted before she could get carried away.

"Everything is fine Mrs. Hudson, I just need to talk to you about something and then I'm going to need your help."


	4. The Boy Who Lived

Harry woke from his sleep still curled into a ball. He could tell it was morning by the light coming under the door and heard his Aunt and Uncle moving about in the kitchen. His uncle was complaining loudly about the state of the government while his aunt stuffed Dudley with more food than he needed. Harry realized he had not eaten since the morning before and could feel his stomach cramping with the thought. It was a feeling he was used to, but he also needed to desperately use the loo. He knew better than to try to leave to cupboard under the stairs while his uncle was still here, though. He did not like either of the adults in the house, but if he had to choose which one he wanted to deal with it would be Aunt Petunia.

She at least didn't hit him. She made him cook and clean and didn't let him do much more than that, but she only yelled. Uncle Vernon would hit him if he made the smallest sound or did anything wrong. Uncle Vernon was a big man and it hurt when he hit Harry. Harry avoided being in the same room with him as much as possible. Sometimes it was a good thing to be in the cupboard, at least when he was in here they forgot about him and he was left relatively alone. His cousin Dudley didn't hit Harry and rarely even talked to him. He mostly just sat in front of the telly and ate the snacks that Aunt Petunia had Harry make for him.

He could hear his uncle finish his breakfast and new he would leave in the next few minutes for work. He would wait until then to leave his room. Twenty minutes later, Harry tried the door and found it unlocked. His Aunt must have unlocked it this morning when she came down the stairs. He stuck his head out and looked around to be sure the coast was clear. He raced as quickly and quietly up the stairs as possible and used the loo. Coming back down he walked into the kitchen and pulled up the stool to the sink to begin washing the dishes left from breakfast. He knew if he did things without being told, he would get to eat sooner rather than later. Just as he finished the dishes, his Aunt came back into the kitchen.

"Good, you've cleaned the kitchen. Here is your list of chores for the day. I expect them done by the time Vernon gets home or you know what will happen," she told him coldly.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." She turned to walk away and made it a few steps before turning back.

"You may eat one bowl of cereal. Then clean up your mess and get to work!" Harry drew a relieved breath. He was very hungry and glad she was going to let him eat. He wished he could have more than one bowl of cereal, but he knew better than to ask for more.

As Harry quickly ate and went about his day, his thoughts turned back to the letter that had arrived in the post yesterday. What would his new family be like? He could not imagine things being much worse than they were here. Surely if they were taking him away because his relatives did not treat him well that meant he would be placed somewhere better? Harry could only hope that was the case. He hoped for a normal family like the ones that he saw at the playground when Aunt Petunia made him leave the house because she had company. He tried not to get carried away, even in his own head, because he knew that no matter what adults told you, they could change their minds at any time. Uncle Vernon had taught him that lesson over and over again.

Harry finished his chores and found Aunt Petunia in the sitting room reading a ladies magazine while Dudley watched the telly. He did not speak to her, but waited for her to notice him standing there.

"Finished then, boy?" He nodded. "Your uncle will be home in an hour and we will be going out tonight to eat. Go somewhere that we won't have to see you." Harry nodded again.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia" He turned and left the room going out the front door and making his way down the road to the park. It was a sunny summer day, so Harry found himself tree to sit under and stretched out in the shade. He soon fell asleep in the warm air while imagining all the places he could end up when he left his Aunt and Uncles house for good.

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At half one in the middle of London, John Watson looked around at the flat he stood in. If he hadn't been the one to clean it, John would not recognize the flat. It was larger than what it had always seemed, yet still felt warm and cozy. He had cleaned and packed all of the science equipment that had been cluttering the kitchen and carried it down to 221C. Mrs. Hudson was allowing him to store Sherlock's old things down there until he could decide what to do with them. John wasn't quite ready to get rid of them yet, but knew he had to make the flat safe for Harry. John and Mrs. Hudson had spent all last evening and the better part of today clearing and packing the clutter in the flat.

Some things had stayed because John just couldn't get rid of them yet. There was still a bison skull on the wall wearing headphones, the mantle still held a human skull, a jackknife thrust through a stack of mail, and an odd assortment of keepsakes from the cases he had worked with Sherlock. There were various stains on different surfaces, including the ceiling that John hadn't even tried to clean and the yellow smiley face on the wall still had bullet holes in it. It still felt like home to John, just cleaner.

John had left Sherlock's room for last. Although it was the place he spent the least amount of time, John thought it felt the most like Sherlock would walk back into it at any minute. It had been hard to open the wardrobe and see the expensive clothes hanging there. They still smelled of Sherlock and John could not help but give in to the temptation to take a few deep breaths. He came back to himself quickly when Mrs. Hudson came in behind him and started clearing out the dresser. It was good that she was here. She kept a running dialog about everything happening in the neighborhood, and helped to keep his mind off of what he was doing.

John allowed himself to go on autopilot as much as possible and just tried to complete the task without thinking about who's things he was packing away and why. There would be time later for that. But Harry would need a room to sleep in tonight, so they continued to work until it was done. John then shifted his few possessions into Sherlock's room while Mrs. Hudson changed the sheets on the bed in John's old room. John's old room was smaller than the one down stairs, and John thought that Harry would be comfortable in here. It needed some sprucing up to make it a proper little boy's room, but John thought that Harry might like to pick out his own things. He would wait for a few days and then take Harry shopping for whatever he needed.

After explaining to Mrs. Hudson the situation yesterday, she had immediately put his fears about not wanting a child in the house to rest. Her only question was "When will he be here?" before she started making a list of all the things they needed to do and what kind of biscuits did John think Harry might like. Once again John was reminded that he really did have the best landlady in London even if she wasn't his housekeeper. Truthfully she was more like a second mother to him after his had died so many years ago. She was also scarily efficient when she had a goal in mind. John had exhausted himself trying to keep up while she had made her list and sent him on errands.

There had been a brief worry about his financial situation before he remembered his meeting with Mycroft the previous afternoon. He had checked his bank account and nearly choked on his tea when he saw the balance. A very large sum of money had been deposited into his account. He had received a thick bundle of papers that morning that had explained he would continue to receive a monthly allowance that was almost quadruple what he made at the locum surgery, which would be directly put into his account on the first of every month. He had also noticed a few property deeds and other financial papers that he had put back in the envelope without looking at them. It seemed he was indeed a wealthy man thanks to Sherlock.

Putting his thoughts and worries aside, he brought a cuppa to Mrs. Hudson who was sitting in his chair and sank down onto the couch. They had finally finished putting the flat in order and had roughly an hour to spare before Dumbledore was set to arrive. He could hardly believe how much his life had changed in a little over a day. After their cuppa, Mrs. Hudson left to get ready for her bridge club meeting, saying that she was very excited to meet Harry and would be up early in the morning for her introduction. After she left John decided to clean himself up and have a small bite to eat.

Promptly, at half six, John heard the same popping noise as when Dumbledore had left yesterday, and was suddenly faced with three people appearing in his sitting room. He blinked trying to figure out what had happened, before deciding to just go with it.

"Right, yeah, okay...Professor Dumbledore," John greeted him with a nod and rose to shake hands once again. Dumbledore introduced the man and woman standing next to him. "These are my colleagues, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They are here to help me with the protective spells and charms. This is Dr. John Watson cousin and new guardian of Harry Potter."

John shook their hands after introductions were made. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt immediately set to work while Professor McGonagall continued to stare at John. Minerva noted that the doctor did not flinch and fidget like most people when she leveled him with the stare, he simply stood there and gazed back at her making direct eye contact. After a few minutes of this she found what she was looking for in his gaze and broke their connection with a small smile.

"Yes, you will do very well Dr. Watson." With that statement she turned away and began to chant quietly under her breath. All three of John's guest had wands in their hands that were sending pulses and jets of light around the room in a non threatening manner. Each were quietly whispering in what sounded to John like Latin and he could visually see what looked like a protective barrier of some kind begin to absorb itself into the very walls of 221B. John remained where he was as he watched the magic being performed around him.

During their conversation the evening before, Dumbledore had explained the Statute of Secrecy and the special permissions he had had to obtain for John to be able to even know about magic, much less see it being performed. He was strictly forbidden to share with anyone, other than the witch and wizards currently present, anything about Harry's identity and secret. Dumbledore had also explained a few of the ins and outs of the wizarding world and had left John's head spinning with all the information. In only a few minutes, all three turned back to John and put their wands away inside their robes. Dumbledore smiled at John.

"Still with us Dr. Watson?" John cleared his throat and tried to wipe to stunned look off his face.

"Right. Yeah, yeah I'm still with you." Eyes twinkling, he extended his arm to John like a gentleman of old.

"Then lets go pick up young Mr. Potter and bring him to his new home. We are going to apparate. Hold on very tightly and do not let go, no matter what." Nodding his head, John stepped up beside the professor and grabbed his arm tightly. He heard the popping noise again and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself get sucked into what felt like a vacuum hose.

Seconds later, he felt his feet hit solid ground and stumbled a bit before being righted by Shacklebolt. The tall dark man steadied him before giving him a smile.

"Takes a few tries to get the landing right," he told John in a very deep voice. Standing under his own power once again, John allowed a small smile and nodded.

"Um..okay. I'll ..uh..work on that." Shacklebolt laughed again before becoming serious. John looked around at the firmly middle class neighborhood he now stood in. They were in the mouth of an alley in the shadows. It was just becoming dark as they stepped out into the light cast by the street lamp. Dumbledore started walking toward Number 4 and knocked on the door. John stood at the back of the group, Standing slightly behind Shacklebolt whose height dwarfed John.

He wasn't sure if he could face his cousin calmly knowing what she had done and had allowed to be done to a child. The door was opened by a large man with light brown hair and a ruddy complexion.

"You lot, what are you doing here? Get inside before the neighbors see you!" He stepped aside and hustled the small group into the sitting room. Petunia appeared from upstairs and came to stand beside her husband. Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at the couple.

"I believed you received a letter from me just a few days ago. We are here to take Harry. It was brought to our attention that you are treating him quite ill and that cannot be allowed to continue." Vernon sputtered and began to shout about the ingrate freak that had been brought to his house only a few years before. Instead of letting the insults continue, Kingsley stepped up and looked down at Mr. Dursley.

"Where is Harry? We will leave as soon as we have him." Petunia looked at her husband, then back at the magical group front of her. "I sent him out earlier. We are going to dinner and he knows not to come back into the house until we have left." Dumbledore looked at Minerva and Kingsley who turned and left the house to search for the small boy. Once Kingsley had moved, John was visible to his cousin.

"John! John Watson?" Standing at parade rest, John's expression of distaste did not change as he addressed his older cousin. "Petunia."

"What are you doing with those people John? Don't tell me you're one of them?" Petunia looked horrified at the thought of her cousin being a wizard.

"No, Petunia, I am not part of the magical world. I am here to escort Harry to my home. He will be coming to live with me." Vernon and Petunia both immediately tried to tell John what trouble the boy ways, how to discipline him, etc...but before they could get carried away John crossed his arms over his chest and in the blink of an eye Captain John Watson was standing before them.

"Enough." It was said in a normal volume, but in a tone that had caused more than a few hardened soldiers to come to attention. Both Dursleys immediately stopped talking, although Mr. Dursley's face went from red to almost purple at being spoken at thusly.

"I neither need or want the advice of two child abusers on how to raise Harry. Petunia, your parents must be rolling in their graves with how you have treated your own blood relations. My mother as well. You always were jealous of Lily, but taking it out on an innocent child is unacceptable. I renounce all ties with you and cut you out of my family." With that, John marched out the front door and into the now darkened street. He was so angry, he started shaking. Other than Harry, he had just cut ties with the last of his family. Good riddance too.

Taking deep breaths, John was able to calm himself down by the time Dumbledore joined him in the yard. Dumbledore simply put a hand on his shoulder and stood beside while waiting for John to speak. "I am sorry Professor for losing my temper. We need to find Harry. Where shall we start looking?"

Dumbledore squeezed John's shoulder once before letting his hand fall. Minerva and Kingsley were walking back towards the house from opposite directions and met up with the two men waiting at the end of the drive.

"I did not see him, Albus." Minerva told him quietly, Kingsley just shook his head in the negative. panicking slightly, John forced himself to calm down.

When he was a small boy his favorite place had been in the woods. Trees to lay under or climb had been his playground. "Is there a park nearby?" Kingsley nodded,"I walked past one but did not see anyone there."

John nodded. "I'm going to go back and check. Is there a spell you can do to locate him?" John looked to Dumbledore. Shaking his head in the negative.

"It will draw attention to the area if magic is performed here. We want to avoid that if possible." Nodding again, John looked in the direction Kingsley had come from.

"I have a feeling he's in the park. I'm going to look again. Kingsley, if you'll come with me?" Kingsley nodded his assent. "We'll be back in a few minutes, hopefully with Harry." They departed for the park leaving the two professors behind.

Entering the park, John instructed Kingsley to look in the trees while John began searching the shadows for the boy. Almost halfway around the little circular park, tucked into a deep shadow, the small torch that John carried illuminated the figure of a small boy asleep on the grass. John stepped up after giving Kingsley a small whistle to let him know that he had found Harry.

As John knelt down to check the boy and began shining his light over his face, both his anger at his cousin and his grief over losing Sherlock rushed through him. The small boy had a head full of unruly dark hair, quite reminiscent of Sherlock's wayward curls. He was small and clearly malnourished. There were bruises in varying degrees of healing on his arms and John would bet other places on his body. As Kingsley joined John, he let out a low growl in his throat at the sight of the small boy. Using the light emanating from the end of Kingsley's wand and putting away his own torch, John carefully picked the boy up to place his head on John's shoulder.

Cradling him carefully in his arms, John stood and turned to make his way back to the other members of their group. As they walked, John took stock of the boy in his arms. He was very light and John could feel the ribs and vertebrae sticking out slightly in the small boys back and chest. He was wearing dirty jeans and a worn t-shirt with a hole in it, as well as trainers that looked to be too large for him. Gaze forward and jaw clenched, John and Kingsley made it back to Number 4. Looking Dumbledore right in the eyes John made sure to let his rage show.

"You need to get us away from here Professor. Before I go back into that house." Dumbledore nodded.

"If you will hand Harry to Kingsley, we will take you back to Baker Street." John carefully handed the small boy off and took hold of Dumbledore's arm once again. With a final glance at Number 4 Privet Drive, the small party apparated out of sight.


	5. Harry at Baker Street

_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! A lengthy authors note and then a new chapter. First I want to thank everyone who has Favorited followed my story! I can not tell you what it means that so many of you are interested in reading more! Also, thank you to those who have reviewed. You have made my day with your awesome encouragement! **_

_**I'm sure that you've noticed the timelines in this are a bit...timey-wimey. The Sherlock story line is post-Reichenbach, but before Sherlock returns. Yes, Sherlock will return at some point. Harry Potter's timeline is moved way back. As stated Harry is four at the moment. There will likely be a time jump at some point soon. **_

_**Some works that inspired this one:**_

_**A Study in Magic by Book of Changes**_

_**While I was Away by **_

_**My Experiment by namedthingsyouthrowback. **_

_**I hope you continue to enjoy reading this fic. If you have any suggestions, comments, or questions, please let me know!**_

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Harry at Baker Street

When Harry opened his eyes, he noticed very quickly that he was not in the park where he had fallen asleep. He looked around the unfamiliar flat. There were two mismatched armchairs and a small coffee table. A large bookcase stood against one wall and was full of books. The was no fire in the fireplace across from him that was flanked by two windows. He could hear several adult voices from the kitchen talking quietly. Sitting up, he continued to look around. A chair scraped the floor in the kitchen and soon a man with dirty blond hair streaked with grey and a lined face appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was fairly short for a man, but looked strong. He wore a beige jumper, and faded blue jeans with tan colored boots. He smiled when he saw that Harry was awake and sitting up.

"Hello Harry. I'm John Watson." Harry continued to look at him, but stayed quiet.

He wasn't sure what to expect from this man that he did not know. John walked toward Harry, who drew himself back onto the couch. John stopped immediately after seeing Harry's reaction to his approach. He sat in the red chair across from the couch and leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. He never dropped the smile and Harry thought that he looked nice. John continued to talk to the boy in his best non-threatening bedside manner.

"Harry, I am your Mum's cousin. It has been decided that you will be living with me here at Baker Street because your Aunt and Uncle were not very nice. Are you okay with that?"

Harry stayed still and did not answer John. John knew he needed to tread carefully so he didn't startle the young boy.

"Harry, I know about what your aunt and uncle did to you. It was not your fault and you need to know that. I also need you to know that I will never hurt you Harry. I won't hit you, I won't lock you into closets, and I will do my very best not to yell. You are safe here with me. Alright?" Harry looked at John for a few more moments, before nodding his head very slightly. He wasn't sure he could trust this man, but felt that he needed to answer before he got into trouble.

"Are you hungry Harry?" Harry nodded again and watched the blond man stand up and begin walking toward the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and turned back.

"Are you coming Harry? Lets see what we can find to feed you up, yeah?" John waited in the doorway for Harry to slowly slide off the couch and walk toward him. Harry stopped when he was just out of arms reach. John's heart cracked a little bit to see the child so wary of him, but turned toward the kitchen before he could let the emotion show on his face.

Harry followed quietly behind, stopping only when he saw the other adults at the kitchen table. They were all quiet and watching him. The older man with the white beard spoke first.

"Hello Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I knew you when you were a baby and I knew your parents as well. They were wonderful people and I admired them greatly. They loved you very much." The old mans face wrinkles into a cheeky grin and his eyes twinkled at Harry. Harry looked at him before whispering.

"Thank you, sir." The man and woman at the table introduced themselves in turn. Harry stayed in the doorway while the introductions took place. John stood near the counter and waited until introductions were taken care of before asking,"Well Harry, what do you like to eat?" Harry looked at him not understanding the question. He never got to choose what he ate. Aunt Petunia told him what he could have.

"I dunno," he whispered again. John thought he understood what the comment meant.

"Well, I'm not much of a cook, but I was thinking that maybe some spaghetti might be nice. How's that sound to you?" Harry nodded once and took another step into the kitchen.

"If you show me where things are, I'll make it." Silence continued to reign after Harry's statement which was spoken just above a whisper. John took a deep breath and reminded himself to go slow. He squatted down until he was at Harry's level.

"Harry, you don't need to cook here, okay? That is a job for an adult because we don't want you to get burned. Either I or Mrs. Hudson, who you will meet in the morning, will do all the cooking. Alright?" Harry wasn't sure how to respond.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled quickly, not really sure what he was apologizing for.

"Harry, you don't have anything to be sorry for. It's going to take us a little bit to get used to each other. Remember I told you that you were safe here, and I meant that. Cooking is not safe, so that's why an adult needs to do it. Do you understand?' Harry nodded again. John smiled.

"Good lad. Why don't you go sit at the table while I get our dinner ready?" Harry turned to make his way over to the table and climbed into the empty chair that was waiting there. The other adults continued to look at him until he dropped his eyes to the table top. Understanding the boy's response Minerva picked up the conversation with the other adults to give young Potter some time to figure his new situation out.

They talked quietly and sipped their tea while John prepared dinner in the area behind them. Harry listened to the adults talk above him and watched discreetly from under the fringe nearly covering his eyes. The conversation continued around Harry until John set a large glass of milk and a plate of spaghetti in front of Harry. He fixed plates of food for the other adults at the table, before standing with his back against the countertop with his own plate in hand.

Harry picked up the fork he was given and began to eat his dinner. He finished his portion quickly and stood up to take his plate to the sink. "Harry are you still hungry? Do you want more?"

Harry stopped and looked up at John again. He was still hungry, but wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask for more to eat. Harry did not answer, so John asked again, "Harry are you still hungry?"

When Harry nodded at him John reached out slowly and took the plate from Harry before adding more spaghetti to it. He turned around and carried the plate back to Harry's place at the table. Harry watched him do this before moving to the chair and climbing back up. John returned to his place at the counter and resumed eating his own meal. He didn't say anything to Harry, but gave him a warm smile. Conversation continued in the kitchen until all of the adults had finished their meals. One by one the adults moved to put their plates in the sink and to thank John.

The white bearded man who had introduced himself as Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Harry we must be getting back, but I would like to visit with you very soon. Would it be alright with you if I drop by?"

Again Harry was slightly confused about an adult asking his opinion, but he nodded his head anyway.

"Dr. Watson, I will see you both soon and the communication system I told you about should arrive tomorrow. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to inform me." John nodded at the group. He followed them out of the kitchen before saying, "Professor, that popping thing you do? Apparate, I think you called it? You may not want to do that in the house. May startle Harry, yeah?"

Giving a chuckle, Dumbledore smiled at the doctor. "Right you are Dr. Watson, I do believe that popping thing we do would quite startle Mr. Potter. We shall leave the area before we do it. I will be seeing you soon Dr. Watson." His two companions followed him out the door and down the stairs.

John turned back into the flat and saw that Harry had pulled up a chair to the kitchen sink and was washing the dinner dishes.

"Harry, you don't have to do that. I can wash those later." Harry froze in the middle of washing the plate in his hands. If he wasn't allowed to cook and he wasn't supposed to wash the dishes, what was he supposed to do? Dr. Watson walked back toward the kitchen.

"Harry do you want to do the dishes?" Harry nodded quickly emerald eyes large behind his round glasses.

"Alright then, you wash and I'll dry. Then we'll watch some telly. I think there is a new Dr. Who on tonight." John moved to stand beside Harry in his chair. Harry finished washing the dish in his hand and carefully handed it to John next to him. John did not try to talk to Harry, but quietly stood beside him and let him get used to John being close.

They finished cleaning quickly and moved into the sitting room. John moved to settle on the couch and Harry curled up in Sherlock's old chair. The boy pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin against them. He looked so much like a miniature Sherlock that John had to look away. He turned on the telly and found a new Dr. Who episode followed by re-runs with the tenth doctor. After three episodes, John looked over to the chair to see the young boy had fallen asleep. He rose and picked him up gently carrying him up the stairs to his old room. John lay him on the bed and removed his shoes before pulling the covers over him. He watched the boy sleep for a few moments, whispered "Goodnight, Harry" and switched off the lamp while leaving the room. He left the door cracked so that he would hear if Harry needed him.

John returned to the sitting room and thought back over his day. He was disgusted with his his cousin and her husband. He had examined Harry quickly when he first returned to the flat to find that there were bruises on most of his body. Like the ones on his arms they were in various stages of healing. John knew he would need to take Harry for a check to make sure there was nothing more he needed to be aware of.

Dumbledore had provided legal papers for Harry such as his birth certificate and papers showing John to now be his legal guardian. It reminded John of Mycroft, except Dumbledore was infinitely easier to talk to. The adults had also given John more information about the wizarding world and had even provided him a few books to read about their history. They had told him that he should expect strange things to happen around Harry, especially when his emotions were high, as this would be when he would be unable to control his magic.

It was apparently a common occurrence in young untrained wizards. While most wizards had parents who could help them control their magic, John being non-magical might have more problems with it than normal. He was assured that he could call on any of the three adults that had been with him today at anytime if he needed assistance. John had a slightly panicked thought that he was in over his head, before he reminded himself of the small boy asleep upstairs. Harry needed him and frankly, John needed a reason to get on with living.

Deciding to take each day one step at a time, John made a plan to take Harry shopping for clothes the next day. It seemed that the boy only had the ill fitting clothes he was wearing and was in desperate need of a bath. Dragging himself into Sherlock's old room, he prepared for bed and fell into it. He slept better that night than he had in the ten months since Sherlock had jumped.


	6. Meeting Mrs Hudson

Just had just pulled himself out of bed and had started the kettle when he heard Mrs. Hudson coming up the stairs. "Yoo Hoo, John!" John smiled.

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson. I just set the kettle, should only be a mo before it's ready." Mrs. Hudson entered the kitchen carrying a tray with fresh baked scones and muffins.

"I did a little baking this morning before coming up. Thought the little one might want something fresh."

"You're a saint Mrs Hudson, I'm sure Harry will love these." The kettle finished and John prepared himself and Mrs. Hudson a cup. Joining his landlady at the table, John placed his cup down after a few sips.

"Mrs. Hudson, you need to know a few things before Harry comes down." John explained about the abuse at the hands of Harry's aunt and uncle. That he was shy of physical contact and rather quiet. He also explained about Harry trying to do the chores and offering to cook dinner last night. "We are going to have to be very careful with him Mrs. Hudson. He's kind of like Sherlock was when on one of his danger nights. Tread lightly and carefully, alright?"

"Oh John! That poor boy. Those people should be hunted down! I can't believe they have a child of their own but treated Harry like that."

John rubbed his hand over his face. "Unfortunately there is not much we can do. Harry is a special case and they weren't abusing their son in the way normal people define abuse. That boy was overindulged in the extreme. It is a form of abuse, but most people don't see it that way. I'm just grateful to have gotten Harry out when I did. It was bad and would only get worse if he had been left there."

They drank their tea in silence for a few minutes before they heard a soft thump from the room above them. Footsteps padded toward the bathroom and a few minutes later they could hear Harry coming down the stairs. Harry stepped into the kitchen and looked at Mrs. Hudson.

"Harry, this is Mrs. Hudson, our landlady. She lives in 221A. Remember I told you that you would get to meet her today?" Harry looked at John and nodded his head. "She brought us some scones and muffins that she baked this morning. Are you hungry?" Harry nodded again and made his way to the chair he had used last night.

"Would you like milk or juice this morning?" Harry's nose wrinkled at the choice that was once again offered to him. After a few moments of thinking, he looked back at John. "Juice, please."

While John poured Harry's juice and refilled his and Mrs. Hudson's teacups, Mrs. Hudson pushed the tray of baked goods towards Harry."What would you like to eat this morning Harry?"

Harry eyed the tray in front of him and looked over the assortment of food he was being offered. He chose a muffin and slowly reached out to take, expecting his hand to be slapped. When nothing happened, Harry drew his hand back with the muffin and slowly began to eat his breakfast.

John listened as Mrs. Hudson updated him on all the neighborhood gossip he had missed out on in the last two days. Harry finished his muffin as they talked and looked over at John. He was still hungry and John had let him have more last night. Would it be okay to ask for another? Harry chewed his lip for a moment contemplating. When there was a break in conversation as the adults sipped their tea, Harry mumbled, "Cn I 've n'ther?"

John looked back at Harry.

"Sorry Harry, what did you ask, I didn't understand?" Harry looked at the table top, then back at John.

"Can I have another? Please?" Looking down quickly again he waited for John's reaction to his request.

"Of course you can Harry! You can eat as much as you want. There is no reason for you to be hungry here, alright?" Harry nodded and quickly retrieved another muffin. They were blueberry and quite tasty. He had seen his aunt and uncle eating them, but had never had one himself.

John and Mrs. Hudson exchanged a look over the top of the boys head. They picked up their conversation and continued to sip their tea as Harry finished his second muffin and his juice.

"So Harry, I thought we might go out today and get a few things for you. You need some clothes and shoes and things like that. How does that sound?" Startled green eyes met John's blue.

"You mean go to the store and pick stuff?" Harry couldn't believe it. He never got stuff from the store. He got Dudley's old clothes that he had outgrown them.

"Yes, new stuff from the store. You can pick out what you like." Harry nodded, excited about the idea of getting something new. "We'll also need to stop by my work and get you checked out by the doctor. You need some of your vaccinations and I want to ensure you are healthy."

Harry knew vaccinations meant shots, but they really didn't bother him all that much. Doctors were usually pretty nice, but very busy, so it didn't take very long. "Okay." He sent Harry up to take a bath even though he would have to put back on his dirty clothes and put in a quick call to Sarah at the clinic to let her know he was bringing Harry in to see her. He knew he would have to explain Harry's presence as well as his bruises, but hopefully armed with the documents Dumbledore had given him, it wouldn't be too much of a problem.

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**A/N: Hello Lovelies! Thank you again for all your favs/follows/reviews, I can't tell you how much it means to me to know you are all enjoying this story. **

**This chapter and the following one were originally written as one really long chapter, but I decided to break them up and make two. You'll get to meet a few more of the Sherlock characters in the next one. I am not completely happy with how they turned out, but I'm going to go ahead and post them anyway. **

**To Red who wrote a lovely review, thank you so much for your ideas! You've set loose the plot monkeys and I'll do my best to work some of them into the story! I would love to chat with you more about it, so please PM me if you can! **

**If anyone has any ideas of how you want certain characters to appear or any situations you would specifically like to see, let me know! I have my ideas, but am always open to what other people might suggest! **

**Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! **


	7. London

A short time later, the three residents of 221 Baker Street set out for the shops. Mrs. Hudson tried to engage Harry in conversation while they rode in the taxi, but Harry was busy looking at the sight of London around him. Mrs. Hudson gave up on her conversation and began pointing out things she thought that Harry might like. John was quietly listening to the two together. When they arrived at the shop, John paid the cabbie and stepped out. He held out his hand and was surprised when Harry took it without hesitation. The three quickly found the children's clothing section. Mrs. Hudson and John consulted their lists for what was absolutely needed while Harry stared around him in awe.

"Alright then, Harry lets start with shirts and jumpers and we'll go from there." The three of them shopped for several hours. It took longer because John insisted that Harry pick out everything. Harry felt a little overwhelmed about all choices available and had a hard time trying to decide. Both John and Mrs. Hudson were patient with him though and they eventually got everything that they needed. Loaded with shopping bags, they hailed a cab and sent Mrs. Hudson back to the flat with their purchases. John promised the cabbie an extra tip if he would help the landlady carry everything inside.

Harry and John walked hand in hand a few blocks before turning into a restaurant on Northumberland street.

Entering the small Italian restaurant gave John a sense of deja vu. Angelo was already headed their way, so John couldn't change his mind now. "Dr. Watson! It is good to see you! You haven't been here since...Sherlock."

John managed to extricate himself from Angelo's bear hug. "Sorry, yeah, I couldn't...I wasn't ready...sorry." Angelo squeezed the doctors shoulder in understanding.

"Well you are here now!" Glancing down, he saw the small dark haired boy hiding behind John.

"Who is this?" John looked down at Harry hiding behind his legs. He stepped to the side so Angelo could see Harry, who was wearing a change of his new clothes, a white long sleeved T-shirt with a picture of the Tardis on it, new blue jeans, and bright red converse sneakers similar to the ones the tenth doctor wore. John had been surprised at Harry's choices, since he wasn't at all sure how much of the show he had seen last night before he fell asleep. But the shirt and shoes were two of the items Harry had picked out without any hesitation.

"Angelo, this is Harry. He lives with me now at Baker Street. Harry, this is Angelo, he owns this restaurant." John watched as Angelo lowered his large frame down to Harry's level. He held out a hand toward Harry. Harry put his small hand in Angelo's for a quick shake before pulling back and moving back behind John.

"Hello, Harry, welcome." Standing Angelo smiled at them both. "Your usual table?" John nodded and followed Angleo to the table by the window that he had sat in with Sherlock the night of the Pink Lady case.

He helped Harry choose lunch from the menu and watched as the boy looked around the restaurant and watched the street traffic through the window. Harry would occasionally ask a question about what he saw in his quiet voice, with John answering quickly after. They ate their lunch, had their quiet conversation and thanked Angelo before leaving. Harry reached for John's hand without prompting and they walked the few blocks to the clinic where John still did locum work. He wasn't scheduled to go in for the next few weeks, which worked out well to give he and Harry time to settle into a routine. They walked in the door of the clinic and signed in with the receptionist. Mary was confused about John signing in until he explained why he was there. Mary came around the desk and introduced herself to Harry before going quickly back to work when the next patient came in. John settled Harry and himself in chairs out of the way

. "This is where you work?" John smiled gently at Harry. "Yes, I work here as a doctor sometimes to help them when another doctor is out."

Harry gave a nod and went back to observing the room around him. They were called in to see Sarah soon after and once introductions were performed, Sarah quickly set to work examining Harry and administering his vaccines so he would be up to date. She made sure to explain what she was doing to Harry during the exam which helped him to relax. When finished she pulled John into her office.

"I agree with what you told me on the phone. Malnourished, severely underweight, definite signs of abuse. I didn't find any evidence of fractures. I'll let you know when we get the blood tests back, but like you, I suspect anemia." John nodded as Sarah confirmed his diagnosis from the night before. "John, are you sure about this? After Sherlock...I was very worried about you. You weren't handling things very well. It hasn't even been a year yet."

John sighed. "Sarah, I'm the only other family he has left. You can see what they did to him physically and I'm sure you picked up on some of the mental trauma. Even if I wasn't sure, there is no way I wouldn't keep him. You were right to be worried after Sherlock, I was coping worse than when I came home from Afghanistan, and it was bad then. But I think Harry is going to be good for me. Give me a reason to move on, yeah?" Sarah nodded.

"Alright, good then, I'll let you get home." John collected Harry, thanked Sarah, and left the clinic with Harry walking quietly beside him.

"Harry, I want you to know you did very well at clinic. I am very proud you." Harry looked up at John. That was the first time anyone had told him he had done well. A small smile tugged up the corners of his mouth, while his cheeks pinked a bit with a blush. They made it home quickly and hauled Harry's new things up the stairs to his room. John helped Harry organize his purchases in the dresser and wardrobe. He left Harry arranging his few books and toys to start the kettle for a cuppa. He was settled in his chair with a fresh cup at his elbow, in the middle of the days paper when Harry came down the stairs with a new picture book. Harry settled once again into Sherlock's chair and the two spent the remaining hour until dinner reading quietly.

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! Please forgive me. Apparently I've committed fluff. Fair warning it's probably going to get worse. We're talking baskets full of kittens and all of John's jumpers, people. In response to all of the great reviews and ideas, Mycroft will be be re-joining us sooner than I had planned. I'm actually looking forward to writing that chapter, but don't tell Sherlock! As always reviews and ideas are very welcome! **

**It was brought to my attention that the previous chapters were hard to read, so I apologize for that. I hope this format recommended to me by All The Pretty Horses works better for everyone. I will probably go back at some point and reformat the previous chapters as well. Also, anything you recognize is still not mine. **


	8. Muggling Through

John felt like he was muddling through this parenting thing fairly well considering he had not had the usual nine months to prepare. In the last few weeks he and Harry had gradually begun to get to know each other. They had developed a routine that worked for them. Harry was also very slowly opening up. He showed more trust and less fear when he met new people, and with John and Mrs. Hudson he was surprisingly affectionate. John had enrolled him in a day school for the times when he needed to go into the clinic. It had taken several days before Harry would speak and interact with the other students and teachers, but soon he was excited to go on the days that John worked. All of the adults had agreed that it would be a good thing for Harry to interact with children his age.

Dumbledore came by occasionally and used the owl he had sent (John still shook his head about the owl that lived in his sitting room.) to keep up with John and Harry. McGonagall came by floo once a week to teach John more about their world. Harry had not yet had any incidents of accidental magic, so John really wasn't surprised when Harry's first meltdown came on the heels of a very long day which had thrown them off schedule.

He had been called into the clinic at the last minute to fill in for a doctor with a family emergency. Harry had felt a little warm and was unusually grumpy when John had dropped him at school. A call from the school four hours later confirmed Johns fears of Harry being ill. After collecting Harry and getting him home, John tried to put him down for a nap. For the first time since coming to Baker Street, Harry fought John on going to sleep, ending with tears, a red face, and all the objects in the flat floating mid air. Once objects started floating, Harry stopped crying mid-tantrum.

"S..s-orry, John, I'm sorry..I didn't mean to." Eyes wide, Harry began to inch away from John. This was the Harry that John first met, a child scared of himself and his own abilities.

"S'okay, Harry. I'm gonna send for Professor McGonagall and we'll see if we can't set it to rights." John scribbled a quick note, attached it to Hedwig, and opened the window so she could be on her way. Moving to Harry, he picked up the boy and held him while quietly humming under his breath until he fell asleep. John settled into the couch with Harry on his lap, half expecting the floating objects to come crashing down, but they continued to float lazily near the ceiling.

John was still holding Harry, lost in his own thoughts when Professor McGonagall stepped out of his fireplace an hour later, she glanced around the room quickly. "Well. Must have been quite a strop."

John smiled and watched as she took out her wand, gave a few flicks of the wrist, and floated all of the flat's objects back into their proper places. "Thanks, Minerva. I think he's got a touch of the bug going around his school. Do you have time for a cuppa?"

"John, there is always time for a cuppa." Eyes twinkling, with a small smirk gracing her mouth, she put her wand away and moved to sit in the red wingback chair. "I'll put him to bed and then get the kettle on."

Ten minutes later, they were settled in with a steaming cup in hand. At first, John hadn't been sure how to interact Professor McGonagall, as she reminded him greatly of his Gran. Strong and stern, she could be quite intimidating when she was of a mind to be. He had slowly begun to notice her other qualities. She had a wicked sense of humor, but didn't suffer fools gladly. Once she had learned of his Scottish ancestry, they found they had more in common than either had thought. They often chatted after her lessons and John found himself looking forward to her visits.

"Harry seems to be doing very well with you, John." The corner of John's mouth quirked in a pleased smile.

"Ta. He seems to be settling in well. He's had a few nightmares and he's still not as confident as I would like for him to be, but most days we don't have too much trouble. This is the first time he's gotten upset like this, and you can't blame him, really."

Minerva gave a small hum of agreement. "How are you, John? You seem to be taking everything rather calmly. Maybe a little too calmly. I have to say, I keep expecting you to react badly, but you continue to surprise me."

John mulled over her words while he sipped his cooling tea. After living with Sherlock's mood swings and body parts in the fridge, dealing with Harry was practically a walk in the park. John had often likened Sherlock to an overgrown toddler. Harry seemed like a very small adult in comparison.

"Sherlock always said I never reacted the way he expected me to. He was not the easiest person to get along with and truthfully we had rows pretty often, usually because of something he did or said. Living with him taught me to expect the unexpected. So, really, there's not much Harry could throw out there that would surprise me." With another sip of tea and a small shrug of his shoulders, John continued.

"I just try to take things as they come, mostly. I can't really get upset about things that Harry can't control. If I did, I wouldn't be any better than my cousin and her husband."

"A wise approach, I think, John. Now tell me, have you thought of any questions since our last lesson?" A bright smile lit John's face and made him look years younger. "Yes. Can you tell me more about Quidditch? It sounds fantastic."

With a cheeky grin, Minerva began to explain the game of Quidditch. The two spent a lovely evening discussing the basics of offensive and defensive plays, positions, and professional teams.

In the weeks that followed, there were no less than three other incidents of Harry's accidental magic. When the first new Doctor Who of the season came on, Harry got so excited, he exploded the light bulbs in all the lamps of the sitting room. When John left for three days to go to a medical conference, he came back to find Harry having a conversation with the skull on the mantle while Mrs. Hudson knitted on the couch. (How a skull could talk without a tongue was anyone's guess and if the voice sounded just like his, John would never admit to being a little creeped out.) There was the time the toaster popped up John's toast for breakfast one morning and continued to produce toast on it's own. To Harry's delight and John's amusement, this resulted in Harry's first trip to feed the ducks. For the most part, it was fairly easy to forget that Harry was a wizard. Most days they muddled through fairly well.

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I hope you enjoyed! I have so appreciated all your ideas and I am working diligently to try to fit everyone's ideas in while still maintaining the story line I set out to write. This is the last chapter I had pre-written before posting the story, so you should see our ideas in he next few chapters. Please keep those headcannons coming! **

**On the recommendation of both All the Lovely Horses and Bsum1, I am going back and re-formatting previous chapters, so they should be updated in the next few days. Also if anyone knows how to add links to profile pages or other stories, please PM me and let me know! **

**Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!**


	9. A Best Friend for Harry

Usually when John picked up Harry from school, he barely made it in the door before a small bundle of elbows and knees was hurtling into his midsection, so it took John by surprise when he walked into the classroom and immediately braced himself for an impact that didn't come. After a few seconds he looked around only to see Harry and a small girl with long curly light brown hair sitting on a mound of pillows sharing a book. The teacher noticed John standing near the door and walked over with a smile.

"Hello Dr. Watson. I would like to speak to you if you have a minute." John had a slight moment of panic that something had happened with Harry's magic while at school, but was quickly reassured by the teacher who had seen his frown.

"No worries, Harry's not in trouble. I just thought you might like to hear the story of this afternoon's adventure from an adult before you hear it from Harry." The teacher was smiling in amusement before she began her tale.

"I became quite concerned this afternoon when I heard quite a bit of noise coming from the suddenly rolled up rug near the reading corner. When I went to check, Ms. Granger," the teacher motioned to the girl reading with Harry, "had rolled him up in the rug. I thought at first that he was crying, but when I got him out of the rug, he just looked at me and said "I'm Skippyjon Jones, why did you take apart my burrito?" At that point he and Ms. Granger started meowing at each other again. It took me a moment to figure out the situation, but they were apparently acting out one of the books that we have in our library area. When I told them I thought there was a problem, Harry informed me that 'Mione was his best friend and they were on an adventure together. I just wanted you to know that Ms. Granger hasn't had the easiest time making friends, but Harry seems to have taken her under his wing. I'm quite proud of him for that and thought you might want to know about it as well."

Throughout the teachers tale about the afternoon adventure, Johns frown had been slowly replaced with a smile. Thanking the teacher, he walked over to the reading corner and sank down onto the cushions beside Harry. After glancing up a John, Harry returned his attention to the book that Hermione was reading aloud to Harry.

"Holy guacamole! Exclaimed Skippyjon Jones." Hermione read very well, and John sat quietly and listened as the two finished the book. When Hermione finally closed the book, Harry launched himself at John in his usual greeting. Harry was talking a mile a minute and telling John all about his day and what he had learned.

"And John, I got a new best friend. 'Mione and I like the same books and toys and she's really smart!" John laughed at Harry's enthusiasm.

"Well why don't you introduce her to me then." Harry jumped up from John's lap and went back to Hermione who had been watching and listening to Harry quietly.

"'Mione, come meet my John." Holding her hand, Harry turned back to face John. "John this is my bestest friend 'Mione. 'Mione, this is my John." John smiled at the little girl. She was about the same size as Harry, but had a wild mane of curly hair light brown hair around a rather sweet face. She returned his smile and held out her hand.

"It is very nice to meet you Dr. Watson, I am Hermione Granger." John chuckled at her rather proper manners and shook her hand gently.

"It is very nice to meet you as well Hermione. I heard you had quite the adventure today." This set the two children to telling John all about their adventures with mummies, visiting planets made of spice, and their band of amigos. John was quite amused and very happy that Harry had found someone he was getting on so well with. After their story of adventure was finished, John had Harry gather his things and they headed out. John had quickly written down his contact information on a scrap of pink construction paper laying on one of the tables and asked the teacher to pass it along to Hermione's parents. He thought a possible weekend playdate might be in order in light of Harry's finding a best friend.

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I hope you are still enjoying this story and want to thank everyone once again for your follows/favorites/reviews.**

**I wanted to make this chapter a little lighter than the others and since I'm apparently going to write fluff, I thought I'd throw in a dash of "so stinkin' cute" while I was at it. The books referenced in this chapter are books that my pre-kindergarten students absolutely could not get enough of. They are a series of picture books by Judy Schachner whose main character is Skippyjon Jones. I loved doing read alouds with them and if you aren't familiar with them, you should definitely look them up.**

**At this point in the story Harry has been living with John for about 6 weeks. I see him more secure in himself and his actions at this point and as such, he is able to be more social. I had a thought that Hermione might live near Baker Street and so they were likely to end up at the same school, plus Harry needed a best friend that he could relate to. (Yes, that's a mini spoiler for upcoming chapters.) Next up, Uncle Mycroft!**


	10. Nosy Older Brothers

**A/N: Trigger warning for a brief mild description of a suicide attempt.**

Mycroft Holmes let himself into his town house in the early hours of the morning. He had just returned from a several weeks long tour of several countries. Being the British Government had its perks, but some days or weeks in this case, it was simply exhausting. As he made his way into his modern chrome and granite kitchen to start the kettle, he booted up his personal laptop and began going over e-mails and updates from his staff. The first few e-mails were simple questions that his staff should have been able to answer for themselves. He quickly responded and paused to fix his cup. Settling in once again, he opened the e-mail from the head of the security detail assigned to 221B.

The first e-mail was information about how the the audio bugs and cameras hidden around the flat suddenly stopped working the day before a child had appeared, along with three unknown adults. The replacements for those devices also did not work. His security team had had to rely on old fashioned window peeping and following the doctor and child when they left the flat. There was also reports of a snowy white owl that had arrived the day after the adults and child, it was spotted arriving and leaving through the window in the sitting room, often with a roll of paper tied to it's leg or in it's beak. When the owl was in residence, she seemed to stay in a large white cage in the sitting room.

He began to skim the following e-mails quickly, until he came to the description and photo of a small boy who was never seen entering the flat, leaving it with Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson. The photo that was provided caused a small frown. This child seemed to bear a striking resemblance to Sherlock, but surely he would know if his younger brother had sired a child? No, he was confident that this was not Sherlock's child, he had none of the trademark Holmes qualities, but the resemblance was slightly uncanny.

As he pulled up the next picture, which provided a closer view, thanks to the telephoto lense it was shot with, he became even more confused. He could see the bruises on the child's skinny arms and he seemed to be very small for his age. Mycroft was almost assured the child could only be around four or five at most. How had this child ended up with John Watson and Elizabeth Hudson? He was too dissimilar to John to be his progeny. What was happening on Baker Street?

He continued to read the rest of the report and the ones that had been sent in the following days. Apparently three adults had left the flat, each wearing colorful robes, had proceeded to a nearby alley and then had apparently disappeared between one blink of the eye and the next. He looked at the photos of the three adults who had exited baker street and was surprised to find he recognized one of the men in the picture. Kingsley Shacklebolt was an important member of the Ministry of Magic. His position was not quite as high as Mycroft's, but it was very close. He had met with the man on a number of occasions and found that he quite enjoyed his company, something he could not say about many people he worked with. Politicians really could be quite tedious.

As he studied the picture further, he theorized that the other two people with Shacklebolt would also belong to the magical world based on their clothing and seeming familiarity with Shacklebolt. The fact they had disappeared mid-blink only furthered his theory. It took only moments for Mycroft to recall that this form of transportation was called apparating. Two wizards and and a witch had visited Baker Street, an owl was apparently being kept as a pet, and now there was suddenly a small child in residence as well.

He texted his assistant, Aubrey, as she chose to be called this week to try to set up a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Checking the CCTV cameras around Baker Street and asking for an immediate update from the security detail posted there, he was able to ascertain that the residents of the house were tucked in for the night and had been home since early evening. It seemed that he was due for a visit to Baker Street at the earliest possible time.

John groaned as his alarm blared the next morning. Though he was sleeping much better than he had since Sherlock's fall, he still found it a chore to get out of bed. Forcing himself up, he exited the room, pulling on one of Sherlock's old dressing gowns. It engulfed him from head to toe and he had to roll up the sleeves, which Mrs. Hudson had tacked for him, to be able to do anything while wearing it, but he could now see why Sherlock had loved it so much, it really was unbelievably comfortable.

He sat the kettle and turned to the cupboard while giving in to a yawn. He stopped suddenly and looked back to his left. Mycroft Holmes was sitting in his chair, umbrella propped against the side, reading the paper. Groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, he preceded into the sitting room. He allowed himself to flop gracelessly down onto the couch.

"I could have sworn that I told you very explicitly to leave me alone. You have no business here anymore, Mycroft and I don't particularly like you very much, so why would you think it okay to be sitting in my flat before I've had my first cuppa of the day?"

Folding the paper neatly and placing it to the side, Mycroft took in his first look at John in weeks. He could see that he had regained some of the weight that had been lost immediately following Sherlock's suicide. He looked less drawn and tired, even with sleep still clinging to him. The dark circles were still present, but vastly improved from the last time they had met. If his hair had a bit more gray and if there were a few more lines on his face, well Mycroft knew better than to comment on it.

"Ah, Dr. Watson, how have you been lately?" John rolled his eyes and sat forward placing his elbows on his knees.

"What do you want Mycroft? I'm really not in the mood for social niceties." Mycroft's face never changed from the falsely pleasant expression that he wore.

"I have been out of the country for the last few weeks and upon arriving home last night, I became aware that there is a new resident at 221B. I simply came to meet the young man." John rolled his eyes. He figured this was about Harry. Mycroft's boundary issues were just as bad as his brother's used to be, even if they were presented with a more polite facade.

"It really not any of your business anymore who lives here. He has nothing to do with Sherlock. Why are you so interested, Mycroft?" A small quirk of the lips that passed for a Mycroft smile appeared.

"I'm simply concerned about you Dr. Watson. I do worry you know. You were my brothers best friend. I feel it is my duty to look after you since he is no longer able to do so himself." Another eye roll from John greeted his statement.

"Right. Or it could be that you're just a nosy overbearing git who can't stand it when he doesn't know what's going on. Careful, Mycroft, some might mistake your worry for caring. We wouldn't want that now would we. After all, I believe it was you who told Sherlock that caring was not an advantage." John hated how bitter he sounded, but he knew that if he let Mycroft have his way on this, he would continue to expect to get his way in everything.

Mycroft let out a small sigh. At the time he told Sherlock that, he really had believed it. It had been drilled into him his whole life and it had never proved wrong, until a madman named James Moriarty had dismantled the most important thing in his life. Caring may not be an advantage, but it didn't stop him from caring about his brother, and by extension Dr. Watson. He had never seen his brother so settled and content as he was in the short time that he and John were flatmates.

"Dr. Watson, John...I know I made mistakes with Sherlock, you do not need to point them out to me. I am well aware of their number and I recall them in vivid detail. I am simply trying to fulfill a promise I made to him. It is one that I do not wish to break, as I have broken so many before."

John regarded Mycroft closely. He still had on his usual blank mask, but John had learned to read the very few minute tells that a Holmes gave away. He could see the fatigue in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His suit was impeccable as usual, even if it fit a slight bit looser than it should. He knew that Mycroft had just given him the Holmes version of an apology or at least as close to one as he would get.

Giving in to the inevitable John stood and walked toward the kitchen. He prepared two cups of tea, still remembering how Mycroft preferred his. He returned to the sitting room and handed Mycroft his tea before settling back down on the sofa. He took a couple of fortifying sips before placing his cup down and addressing Mycroft.

"Harry is my first cousin's son. She and her husband were killed and he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. This happened while I was still in Afghanistan. It was recently found out that they had been abusing him, so I was asked as the next closest family member to take him in. I did so and I do not regret it."

Frowning, Mycroft filled in the blanks of what John did not tell him. He would need to look into this aunt and uncle. It did not sit well with him to allow child abusers to go free.

"I see. I thought at first, he might be Sherlock's child due to the resemblance, but quickly dismissed that idea. I knew he could not be yours as there were no common traits. It pains me to say that no one in my office was aware that you had first cousins. I'll be having words with my staff about that, but it does not matter at the moment."

John had picked up his tea and was sipping again while Mycroft spoke. He was amused at the thought that heads would roll because of such a small oversight. He hadn't spoken to either of his cousins in years and they had different last names, so it wasn't surprising that they had never discovered a connection.

"It's fine Mycroft, not their fault. No one needs to get fired over me having cousins no one knew about." Mycroft sipped his tea.

"So the boy then, how is he settling in?" John finished his tea and placed the cup down once again.

"I'm sure you know that we are all fine Mycroft. Harry's doing great, coming along in leaps and bounds. He goes to a school which he loves, he just found his first best friend, and he's crazy about Dr. Who. Mrs. Hudson might be his favorite person in the world because she lets him have biscuits before dinner, but I like to think I run a close second. He is a unique little boy and I'm enjoying having him here. He's as good for me as I am for him."

"Yes, I would have to agree with you on that. You are looking in better spirits since our last visit."

Now that he understood what the boy was doing living with John, he felt a little knot of tension release from him. He had never mentioned that he knew of the night John had almost given in to the grief and loneliness. Mycroft was seconds away from giving the order to the security detail to go in and prevent him from taking his own life by whatever means necessary, when the doctor had suddenly thrown the handful of pills on the floor and curled up on his bed sobbing. He had upped the security risk on the doctor after the incident, though he had never gotten so close to the edge again. If it could be helped, he would never mention that night to anyone, it would not do to upset the accord they had reached, however temporary it may be.

"Well, ta, for that. I'm afraid I have to work the early shift so I need to get our day started." Knowing when he was being dismissed. Mycroft rose and collected his umbrella. He walked to the door and opened it, but turned before stepping through.

"John, you never told me the boy's name." John stood up straight from where he had been collecting teacups and turned towards the door.

"His name's Harry. Harry Potter." With that John walked into the kitchen to deposit the dishes into the sink and begin making their breakfast. He heard the door close with a soft click and could hear footsteps on the stairs, accompanied by the tapping caused by the tip of the umbrella.

Settling into his car, Mycroft allowed the shock of learning that the most famous little boy in the magical world was living with Dr. John Watson. Even he, a muggle with only occasional contact with the magical world knew who Harry Potter was and how important he was in the history of magical world. The Boy Who Lived was being raised by an ex-army surgeon turned blogger and detective, turned Mr. Mom. He lay his head back against the seat and let out the groan he had been holding in for hours. This would definitely not be boring.

**A/N: So what do you think my lovelies? I hope you all got a chuckle. This chapter was written in response to the review from Raychaell Dionzeros who asked for confused Mycroft and for roobug21301 who wondered where he had run off to and why he wasn't jumping into John's business the minute the Albus, Minerva, and Kingsley left.**

**Don't worry, we haven't seen the last of Uncle Mycroft yet, he hasn't even met Harry after all! We've got a quite a few chapters to go before Sherlock puts in his appearance, but I'm interested to know who you would like to see next. PM or leave me a review!**

**As always I love hearing from you. Your ideas and encouragement have made my first writing adventure absolutely delightful. Thank you for the favs and follows! I'm currently a couple of chapters ahead of what I have posted, so if I can get another two chapters written, I'll post the chapter after this one for you later on today!**

**Still not brit-picked, beta'd, or mine. Any mistakes are my own, so if you see one let me know! I was re-reading previous chapters and it's likely that I'll re-write chapter three. None of the overall plot will be changed, but I realized that I contradicted some of the things stated in that chapter with later chapters. Till the next chapter, gentle viewers, enjoy! **


	11. Lestrade & Donovan

**A/N Language warning. There are a couple of choice words in this chapter, because we all know John is a bit of a potty mouth when riled. Also John goes BAMF and Sally get's told!**

* * *

Greg Lestrade's head was pounding. He was in the middle of two separate cases and unable to get either one of them closed. He sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He hadn't been home in three...no four days now and the overdose of fast food and caffeine was definately starting to get to him. He'd been kipping on the small couch in his office when he got the chance, but even he knew he wasn't getting enough sleep to be of any use to his cases.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he stared at the small brown package on his desk addressed to Dr. John H. Watson. He remembered an identical package sitting in the same place a year before, addressed to Sherlock and what that seemingly insignificant brown package had ended up being. He hadn't spoken to John since the day they had cleared Sherlock's name and John had been at the yard for the press conference.

He understood John's anger, he had no small amount of guilt eating away at him for his part in Sherlock's downfall, but he had to admit he missed the friendship that he had developed with the doctor. At the beginning of the investigation, he had refused to be the one conducting the interrogations, much to his boss's displeasure, although he was forced to be present for them. After John had punched the Superintendent in the nose (Lestrade secretly thought he had deserved it) the man was out for anything he could get on John, trying to arrest him on trumped up charges.

Lestrade had done his best to fight for both Sherlock and John, even Donovan had argued in John's favor, but it took Mycroft eventually stepping in to remind the Super what happened to cops who turned dirty before the charges were dismissed. John had gotten away with paying a fine for assault of a police officer to go along with his ASBO.

His office door opened and Sally placed a cup of coffee on his desk before moving to sit down in front of it. "It's the good stuff from down the street, triple shot of espresso."

Digging through his desk for paracetamol, he popped three in his mouth chased by his first sip of the coffee. "Thanks, Sal."

Sally nodded and eyed the package on his desk. "So, you going to call him in or are you going to open it this time?"

As much as he hated his decision, he already knew what he had to do. Greg sighed and took another sip of his coffee before reaching for this phone. Scrolling through his contacts list, he selected Johns name and hit call. As he waited for the phone to ring and be picked up, he tried to mentally prepare himself for the conversation that might follow. When the phone rang through to voicemail, he hung up and tried to call back immediately. After it rang through the second time, he decided to leave a voicemail.

"John, it's Lestrade. I know you don't want to talk to me, mate, but we recieved a package at the yard with your name on it. It's almost identical to the one Sherlock recieved during the pool case. I need you to come down and open it. If I haven't heard back from you in two hours, I'm coming by your place, fair warning." Greg disconnected the call and looked over at Sally.

"He's probably ignoring you, you know." She sipped her coffee calmly. She almost hoped that John didn't call back. She had warned him the first time they had met to stay away from the Freak, but he didn't listen to her. Now he was heartbroken and though she was sorry he had gotten hurt, she still felt that he had brought it on himself.

"Yeah, I know. I wouldn't want to talk to me either. But if I don't hear back, I'll go over and see if I can't route him out anyway. We have to deal with whatever this is no matter what." Stomach churning from the coffee and the stress he was under, he pulled the folders from his current cases toward him.

"Alright, lets go over this again. Do we have anything new?" They discussed the cases while they waited for a call back.

* * *

Across town, John and Harry were seated in Angelo's waiting for the Grangers to join them. Mrs. Granger had called John earlier in the week and had they had decided to meet for dinner to get to know each other before starting playdates between their children. John respected that they didn't want their child around an adult they did not know and he had to be especially careful due to Harry's past and magical abilities.

Harry was not nearly as nervous as John thought he would be and he was currently telling Angelo all about his day at school and his best friend 'Mione who was joining them for dinner. He was really quite relieved that Harry was doing so well in such a short period of time. The quiet boy he had first met was not often present and Harry asked a million questions that John tried to answer to the best of is ability.

John felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out to see Lestrade's name on the caller ID. He hit the ignore button before setting it down on the table. When it buzzed again just as the Grangers appeared in the doorway, he once again hit ignore before turning the phone off completely and putting in back into his jeans pocket. He stood to greet the Grangers, shaking hands, before they all settled in to start their dinner.

Two hours later, after a wonderful dinner with the Grangers, John and Harry arrived back at 221B. Opening the heavy black door with it's golden numbers, John allowed Harry in ahead of him. Harry rushed up the stairs with John following much more slowly behind him. Harry had been chattering about his weekend playdate with Hermione, who would be coming to Baker Street for the majority of the day on Saturday. When there was a pause in Harry's chatter followed by "Hello! Who are you? I'm Harry and I'm four!"

John's instincts went on alert and he finished climbling the steps in few leaps. Harry stood in the doorway of the sitting room, hand still on the doorknob, looking at Greg Lestrade.

To say that John was not happy to find Lestrade and Donovan in his sitting room would be a massive understatement. He wanted nothing to do with either one of them and he had thought he made that perfectly clear after their last meeting. He still didn't know why Lestrade had called him earlier, but it seemed he was about to find out.

He nudged Harry into the room gently and shut the door behind him. He removed his and Harry's coats, hanging them on the back of door before turning back to his two unwelcome visitors. Harry stood close to John and watched the two adults to see what would happen. Lestrade smiled at Harry and spoke to him in a cheerful voice. "Hello, Harry, my name is Greg Lestrade."

John crossed his arms over his chest. "Is there a reason you are in my flat uninvited?"

Lestrade's attention was pulled from the small boy to John. His face was relatively blank, but his jaw was clenched. Lestrade could see that he was holding himself in very tightly. John had already answered two of his questions unwittingly. Yes, he had been ignoring his call on purpose and no, he hadn't listened to his voicemail. Lestrade let out a small sigh and ran his hands through his hair.

"John, I take it didn't listen to the voicemail." John shifted slighty, pulling his phone out of his back pocket before booting it up. He pointedly pressed buttons to get into his voicemail and put the phone on speaker. After they had all listened to Greg's message, John ended he call.

"No, I'm not getting involved. You can open it if you want, but I'm not playing anymore games with madmen. Please see yourself out." With that, John reached down for Harry's hand and walked around the two officers standing in the middle of the room.

"Right then Harry, I promised you a book if you did a good job in the restaurant tonight, and you did a fantastic job, so why don't you go up and pick out two books. I'll be up in a mo." Harry gave John a bright smile before once again racing up the stairs. John turned back to the two adults that had not left.

"John, you know we wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. We don't know what's in the package, it could be anything." John looked Lestrade over, noting how bad he really looked. The hand that he had run through his hair had a slight shake to it. He looked pale and drawn. The lines aound his eyes and mouth stood out very distinctly. Normally he would enquire how long Greg had gone this time without going home, but they weren't friends anymore, so it was no longer his place.

"I said no. I will not be getting involved. We all know what happened the last time a package for a resident of 221B showed up at Scotland Yard. I lost my best friend because of a madman, but it all started with that damn phone. I've got Harry to think about now. So no, I won't be coming down to the yard, I won't get involved, and I don't care what you do with it. You are no longer welcome here, either of you, so unless you have a warrant, kindly get out of my flat!"

John's voice had remained even, but his tone had an edge of steel to it. Lestrade knew how stubborn he could be and could not blame him for not wanting to get involved. He did not know what was in the package but he had a pretty good guess. If it was anthing like last time, the results of opening the package could be disastrous, but needs must.

Greg was just about to open his mouth to try to reason with John, when Donovan, who had been uncharacteristically silent, and who apparenty was completely obtuse to John's mood spouted out her ill timed and ill concieved question.

"How did you end up with the Freaks' kid? And is he as bad as the Freak was? Is there something wrong with him?" John froze where he was standing, expression turning positively glacial. Greg facepalmed before taking a step away from Donovan. Sally continued to stare at John, eyes disbelieving, head tilted to the side as if trying to figure something out. She held herself loosely as if there wasn't a deadly threat coming from John standing only feet away. He moved quickly enough that she was startled for a moment. Sally Donovan suddenly had a face full of enraged Army Captain.

"You listen to me very closely, you unfeeling Bitch. If you ever use that word in my presence again, I will not hold myself back. Do not ever mistake my silence for apathy. I've never said anything to you, because Sherlock asked me not to, but since you helped him off the side of a building, I no longer have to honor that request. So hear this, if you continue to open your mouth before thinking I will not hesitate. I. Will. End. You. I will take your badge, your good name, and anything else that I can get my hands on. And if you ever doubt me, Donovan, remember this. I have killed men far better than you and laughed about it afterwards." John turned away from her abruptly and moved quickly into the kitchen. He had never come so close to hitting a woman as he had just then.

Sally stood there stunned. She had never seen or expected John Watson to be so menacing. She absolutely had no doubt about anything he said to her. A shiver ran down her spine. She looked over at Lestrade. Lestrade returned her gaze then shook his head at her.

"You never did understand Sally." A small frown formed between her brows.

"Understand what?"

Lestrade glanced over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. "You always said one day we'd be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes would have put it there. Do you ever wonder if we have already stood over a body, and John Watson was the one that put it there? "

Sally was still not catching his meaning. She continued to frown as she followed him down the stairs. He stopped as he opened the front door, looking back at her once more. "What I'm saying Sally, is that Sherlock was never the one you needed to worry about."

As his meaning hit her, she stumbled a bit before quickly righting herself. She looked at him over the roof of the car, then glanced back up at the illuminated windows of 221B. In the window to the left, she could see the silhouette of the doctor and blogger. Another shiver made it's way through her as she turned away and climbed into the car.

**A/N: Helly Lovelies! I do hope you are still enjoying the story. John got a little bit BAMFy in this one because BAMF John is one of my favorite things to come out of this fandom. Also, I hate Sally and pretty much want to slap her for her ignorance. Hence this chapter.**

**Now, the package you may ask? It's coming up my dears. I'm afraid the next few chapters are going to be heavy on the Sherlock characters/storyline with very little Harry in them, but worry not, he'll be back soon! We are also going to get a little angsty, so be forwarned. **

**As always, I love reading your reviews and thank you for your follows/favs. Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! **


	12. The Plan

The following morning Greg and Sally were once again back in his offfice at NSY looking at the package on his desk. A polite knock was heard before his door opened to reveal Mycoft Holmes. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, do you have a moment? I need to discuss a serious matter with you."

Lestrade was thrown for a moment, before regaining his composure. He shouldn't be surprised that Mycroft knew about the package for John. He motioned for Mycroft to sit in the only other chair available in his office. Mycroft sat gracefully with only a nod toward Sally to acknowledge her presence.

"You're here about the package then?" Mycroft's face held his usual calm, polite mask. He was dressed in his usual impeccable bespoke suit and carried his umbrella. Glancing out the window, Greg could see his assistant, Amanda as she had told him her name was, standing outside his door typing away on her ever present phone.

"Indeed, Detective Inspector. As well as another matter that I wish to discuss with you later. Please tell me about the package." Greg sat forward in his chair placing his elbow on his desk and running his hands over his face and then through his short silver hair.

"Arrived two days ago in with the regular mail. No fingerprints, no traces of anything on the outside of the package, no return address or distinguishing marks of any kind. I've had the bomb dogs go over it, but they found nothing. Same for forensics. The only reason it was brought to me was because the mail boy is a fan of Dr. Watson's blog." Mycroft nodded, then reached toward the package.

"May I?" He picked up the package and turned it over and around, looking it over with a critical eye. He sat it back on the desk and leaned back into a comfortable pose in his chair.

"You will not find any evidence, even once the package is opened, on the identity of the sender. I suspect the only person who the contents will have any meaning for is Dr. Watson." Greg sighed and ran his hands through his hair once again.

"I figured. You don't think this is Moriarty do you Mycroft? It's identical to the one Sherlock recieved when that whole mess started. John is refusing to get involved, rightly so, I think."

"I can assure you with utmost confidence that James Moriarty is not behind this, Gregory. Dr. Watson is being stubborn for no reason other than his anger at the people in this room. I have asked John to join us here and he is on his way as we speak so that he may open the package and answer everyone's questions about it once and for all." Mycroft seemed completely unperturbed so Greg let go of a slight bit of the tension he was holding in his shoulders.

"What was the other matter you wanted to discuss?" Greg had an idea that Mycroft may not want John privy to the next part. He couldn't read the man anymore than he could read his brother, so he just called it gut instinct.

"Ah yes, you met Harry during your visit last night to Baker Street?" Lestrade nodded. Mycroft could see Sally's face pinch out of the corner of his eye.

"Harry is John's second cousin. He is an orphan who lived with his maternal aunt and uncle before John took custody of him several weeks ago. I have been out of the country during this time, otherwise the matter would have already been handled, however, it has come to my attention that the reason Harry is now residing with John is because the aunt and uncle were abusive. Normally I would handle this on my own, but considering how much they seem to rely on what their neighbors think of them, I thought it might be appropriate to hand the matter over to New Scotland Yard to deal with." Mycroft's normally placid face slipped a bit and Greg could see the disgust and utter contempt in it while he spoke of the Harry's relations. He glanced over at Sally to see her head bowed and a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"So basically, you want me to arrest these people for child abuse and make it as public as possible?" Mycroft smirked, which sent a shudder down Greg's back. In this moment, Mycroft looked like an absolute predator. "Exactly Detective Inspector."

Greg returned his gaze for a few more moments before glancing at Sally again. She hadn't moved other than to clench her hands into fists. "Normally I would say it's not my department, but just this one time, and since you asked without kidnapping me," Greg smirked in amusement, "I'll gladly help you. It should only take a few hours to get a team together. You'll have to give me the evidence you have for the warrant, but I'm sure you already have all the details tied up nicely."

A geniune smile crossed Mycroft's face, "Indeed, Detective Inspector. I've even procured a warrant that can be enforced at any time."

Greg snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."

* * *

John Watson took a deep breath as the cab pulled up in front of the imposing front of NSY. He thought back on all the times he had come here with Sherlock and even all the times after the Fall. He had hoped that he had seen the last of the building the day that they'd cleared Sherlock's name, yet here he was, getting dragged back in.

He exited the cab and reached back to help Harry out. John hadn't wanted to bring him, but with Mrs. Hudson out at one of her group meetings and the school closed for teacher inservice, he hadn't had a choice. Harry reached for his hand and together they made their way into NSY.

Walking through the cubicles toward Lestrade's office, John could feel the stares and hear the whispers that were left in their wake. Harry waved at the people that openly gawked at them and asked John questions about anything and everything. John could feel himself tensing up the closer they got to Lestrade's office. He could see Anthea standing next to the door head down, phone in hand. As they approached her she looked up and smiled.

"Hello Dr. Watson. I've been told that Harry and I will be having a treat at the cafe across the street while you all have your meeting. With your permission of course." Mycroft, thought John, taking care of the details as usual. He watched as Anthea squatted down so that she was on Harry's level.

"Harry, my name is Anthea and I'm a friend of John's. I was wondering if you would like to come have a snack with me, while John goes into his meeting?" Harry stared wide eyed at her before tugging on John's hand. John leaned over as Harry reached up to whisper, (not as quietly as he tought) in Johns ear.

"Can I go John? She's really pretty!" John laughed and gave Harry a quick squeeze around his shoulders. Standing back up, John addressed Anthea as she also stood.

"Don't overload him on the sugar. He prefers milk with his snacks if they have it. How many shadows will you have with you?" She knew John was referring to the discreet security detail Mycroft always had around the people in his life. "Three."

John nodded his head and squeezed Harry's hand lightly before relinquishing it to Anthea. He watched as she and Harry walked back the way they had just come. Taking another deep breath, he knocked on the door to Lestrade's office and walked in.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I know, I know, I left you with a bit of a cliff hanger, but I'll be posting two chapters today, so let's keep the throwing things at me down to a minimum, please. _**

**_The next few chapters should explain A LOT of what's happening. Many of the reviews you left for me have helped me fill in any plot holes that I have inadvertently left open, so read carefully and be patient. You'll get the answers to *most* of your questions! I've just finished chapter sixteen and I am so excited about the chapters I've written so far. Let's just say the plot thickens (insert evil cackling laugh here). _**

**_***In the next chapter, there is a puzzle. The first person who can PM me all the correct answers will get a sneak preview of chapter 14 sent to their inbox. DO NOT post your answers as a review please! Let's keep it spoiler free!***_**


	13. The Package

John walked into Lestrade's office. Lestrade was seated in his chair behind his desk, Mycroft and Sally in the chairs in front of it. He gave a slight nod to the room in general, but didn't move away from the door after closing it. He leaned against the door for a moment before he forced himself forward, closer to the desk. He could see the package clearly, sitting on top of a stack of case files.

When he reached for it, he noticed absently that his hand was steady.  
Without saying a word he picked up the package and held it in his hand. It was a small rectangular box, wrapped in brown packing paper. The label on the front was white with black font. His name was on the label along with the address of the NSY. The box was light, less than a pound in weight. He could feel all eyes in the room on him, but stayed silent.

He put his finger under the edge of the wrapping and pulled. Like ripping a plaster off a wound he unwrapped the box quickly, revealing a plain white cardboard box underneath. He pulled the lid off the box along with the white batting that was placed over the top of the object inside for padding. He looked down to see a cell phone that was identical to the one from the pink lady case. He knew it wasn't the exact same phone, but made to look like it. A sudden memory came back to him of Sherlock saying almost the same words about the phone that had been used to send the pips.

His breathing quickened, but his hand remained steady. He took the phone out of the box and read aloud the note that was underneath it.

_Figure out the passcode to solve the first puzzle. - SH_

John squeezed his eyes shut and tried to catch his breath. One sentence, two initials, and John felt like he had been punched in the gut. There was no way...he couldn't be alive. He had buried him, said goodbye standing at his gravestone. John opened his eyes and stared straight at Mycroft. If anyone knew, it would be Mycroft. John begged with his eyes for answers.

"I cannot give you the answers you seek Dr. Watson. You'll need to access the phone to get those."

Mycroft never flinched or moved a muscle, but John could see even he was slightly surprised by the note. Sally and Greg were openly shocked and probably thinking the same thing he was. Why now? It had been almost a year since Sherlock had jumped from Barts. If it was really Sherlock who had sent the package, or arranged for it to be sent, why?

John was pulled out of his thoughts by Greg, who had risen from his chair and moved to stand by John. "Do you know what the passcode is?"

John looked down at the phone and pushed the home screen button on the bottom. The full keyboard came up along with the box to type it in. John had been expecting a four digit number, but this looked like it was a word or words. John stared at the screen and tried to figure out what it could be. He tried several of the first options that popped into his head but they were all summarily rejected. He looked up at the others in the room.

"I don't know...I just...I don't know." Greg clapped him on the shoulder. Then stepped away.

"Anyone have any ideas?" John looked at Mycroft again. He had a small frown between his brows and his hands were pressed fingertips together in front of his mouth in a very familiar way. John could tell he was thinking deeply, in his version of his mind palace, so he looked to Greg who shrugged and then to Sally, who refused to meet his eyes. He started pacing the small space left in Lestrade's office, then stopped to look out the window into the pit. He didn't know how long they all sat in the quiet absorbed in their own thoughts, but he turned when he heard Sally start to speak.

"If it's really him, it'll be something only the two of you knew. An inside joke, or something like that. Not something that would be easy for anyone else to guess. He would have made sure only you knew the answer. There might be more than one code to crack. He would have made it as clever as possible." She did not speak in her usual brash way and she still didn't meet John's eyes, but he thought of what she said and knew she was probably correct. Donovan could be a good cop when she wasn't throwing insults around.

"Right. Okay then, I'll think about it and let you know when I've figured it out." He pocketed the pink phone and moved toward the door. He stopped before opening it.

"Mycroft, do you have shadows on Harry?" He turned back to the room. Mycroft nodded. "Increase them and move them in closer when I'm not with him. Just in case."

Mycroft looked at John and immediately understood what he was saying and asking all at once. If this wasn't Sherlock, but someone else, Harry could possibly be a target. This was John's way of accepting his help and telling him to protect the boy at all costs.

"Understood." With a nod of thanks at Mycroft, John left the room and walked back through the pit toward the elevators. His mind was buzzing with everything that had happened today and he couldn't help but wander how this situation was going to turn out.

In the office, the three remaining adults looked to one another. Sally spoke first. "What did he mean by shadows?"

"He's talking about the security detail that John and Sherlock, and now Harry always have with them when they leave the flat." Surprisingly, it was Lestrade who answered her and not Mycroft.

"Wait, if they had a security detail, why were they always getting hurt and kidnapped? Shouldn't they have prevented that?" Mycroft huffed out a breath that couldn't quite be called a snort, but was close. Lestrade just grinned.

"My brother and his blogger were rather good at loosing their tails or shadows as Dr. Watson calls them, when it suited their purpose." Sally nodded, it definitely sounded like something the two of them would do.

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Okay, so I might have gotten my chapter numbers wrong, sorry about that. I forgot that I had added this chapter in there during my re-writes yesterday and hadn't updated my chapter index yet. So...I guess you are getting three chapters today instead of the promised two. You don't mind too terribly much do you_**?


	14. Puzzles

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Okay so here is the one with the puzzle for you. The answers can be one word or a phrase. The first reader to send all the correct answers to my INBOX will get a special preview of chapter 15 before it is posted tomorrow. _**

**_Remember, don't post your answers as a review, please! Send me a PM. And whoever wins, can't share the spoilers with everyone else until the chapter is publicly posted. I thought this might be a fun way to get everyone involved, so please be good sports and don't spoil it for everyone! Enjoy!_**

* * *

John collected Harry from the cafe across the street. He and 'Thea, as Harry called her, had apparently had a lovely lunch date. John shook his head with a grin when he thought back to how she had shut him down the first time he met her and now here she was with a four year old asking if they could do it again soon. After deciding on Sunday afternoon tea, John gathered Harry up and let him say his thank yous. He hailed a cab and soon the two were headed back to Baker Street.

John was appreciatie of Harry's constant questions about his surroundings as it took his mind off the phone burning a hole in his pocket. They arrived home to find Mrs. Hudson had baked again, despite her continued protests of not being their housekeeper, so they all settled in to have their tea and the fresh, still warm biscuits. Mrs. Hudson and John talked about her bridge club meeting and filled him in on all the neighborhood gossip that she had heard.

When they were finished with their tea, Harry asked to go back downstairs with Mrs. Hudson so they could work on the puzzle that had been started earlier in the week. Ageeing to call him before dinner, John listened as they headed downstairs.

He pulled the pink phone out of his pocket and allowed memories to wash over him. He was surprised to learn that they weren't as sharp emotionally as they had once been, and he was even able to appreciate the humor in some of the situations they had found themselves in. He knew the key to opening the phone would be in there somewhere. He started at the beginning, their first meeting at Barts, and went forward from there, searching for any clue Sherlock might have given him. He had made it all the way to the case with the Woman, when "Oh!"

John picked up the phone and entered vatican cameos. The home screen of the phone came up immediately. There was only one application on the home screen so John tapped it and waited for it to load. When it finally came up, John couldn't help but chuckle. It was an application in which you could create your own crossword puzzle. He started to read through the clues at the bottom and filled in the puzzle line by line.

Across  
1 We are out of _

3 Five letter word for what I am

5 Answer to the first question I ever asked you.

7 That thing you did...

9 Anderson's favorite animal

11 Mycroft's theme song

13 You are not my _

15. If Mrs. Hudson Leaves Baker St

Down

2. I once told you I was on the side of these, but not one of them

4. Moriarty's Ringtone

6. I don't have friends...

8. We can't do this at a crime scene

10. What did I wear to "The very heart of the British Empire"

12. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see the

14. The wall

John filled in the last blank of the puzzle and hit enter. Moments later the screen of the phone went black before a video came up. John set the phone down quickly. He wasn't sure he was prepared for whatever might be in the video. Using his own phone, he sent a text to Lestrade and Mycroft.

_Figured out the passcode. Donovan was right about additional puzzles, but worked that out too. there is a video. Haven't watched it yet. 9 pm Baker Street. -JW_

John locked both phones and put them on the mantle next to the skull. He started dinner for himself and Harry and pushed thoughts of the video from his mind as much as possible. They had a quiet evening as had become their norm. As John was tucking Harry into bed, Harry asked a question that stopped John in his tracks. "John, who's Sherlock?"

John looked down at Harry. "Where'd you hear that name Harry?"

"'Thea mentioned him, and Mrs. Hudson. You yelled it the other night when you had a bad dream too. Then on the voicemail the policeman left you." Harry was running his fingers over his Tardis bedspread. John sighed. Harry was apparently more observant than John had given him credit for. Idiot, he thought to himself, you should know better.

"Sherlock was my best friend and my flat mate. We lived together here at Baker Street. He solved crimes with the police and I wrote stories about it. He...died about a year ago." John's voice broke little, but he cleared his throat and regained his composure quickly.

Harry crawled into Johns lap and wrapped his arms around Johns neck as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry he made you sad John. You wanna tell me about it, like I tell you when I'm sad?"

John gave Harry a squeeze then helped him back under the covers. "That might help, Harry, thank you. How about we start with how we met?"

Harry nodded and got comfortable while John told him of how he and Sherlock had met. He had just started the beginning of the Study in Pink case when Harry fell asleep. John leaned over and laid a his hand over the top of Harry's head. He leant down and placed a gentle kiss over the lightening shaped scar then turned off the lamp and made his way back downstairs.


	15. Answers to the Puzzle

**_Here are all the answers to the puzzle!_**

1. We are out of  
_milk_

3. Five letter word for what I am  
_bored_

5. Answer to the first question I ever asked you.  
_Afghanistan (A Study in Pink)_

7. That thing you did...  
_That you offered to do...it was good. (The Great Game)_

9. Anderson's favorite animal  
_dinosaurs (not really sure where this came from!)_

11. Mycroft's theme song  
_God Save the Queen_

13. You are not my...  
_date (A Study in Pink)_

15. If Mrs. Hudson leaves Baker Street  
_England will fall_

Down  
2. On the side of these, but not one of them  
_angels (I may be on the side of angels, but do not think I am one of them)_

4. Moriarty's Ringtone  
_Stayin' Alive - The Great Game_

6. I don't have friends  
_I've just got one - Hounds of Baskerville?_

8. We can't do this at a crime scene  
_giggle (We can't giggle, it's a crime scene!) - A Study in Pink (I think)_

10. What did I wear to "The very heart of the British Government?"  
_a sheet. (You are standing in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British Government. Sherlock Holmes, put on your trousers!) -A Scandal in Belgravia_

12. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see the  
_battlefield_

14. The wall...  
_had it coming (Why are you shooting at the wall? The wall had it coming!) - The Blind Banker?_

**_A/N: Thank you pinterest/tumblr for the inspiration for these. No, these don't work in a real crossword puzzle, but just imagine that they would! Sherlock would be able to figure out how to do it I'm sure! I think I got most of the episodes right, but without going back and watching both season's again, I'm not really sure. And really, after that Doctor Who finale (I mean WTF?), I couldn't handle watching two season's of Sherlock! Hope you had fun guessing! A real chapter will be posted after dinner! (Priorities, people, priorities!)_**


	16. Ghosts

It was a quarter to nine, so John started the kettle but poured himself two fingers full of the good whisky Mycroft had given them as a christmas gift last year. He was almost certain he was going to need the liquid courage to make it all the way through the rest of the evening. He refilled his glass once more, then fixed himself a cup of tea. He heard the door downstairs open and listened as Greg made his way upstairs.

John automatically fixed him a cup and handed it to him as he came into the kitchen. He didn't want to do the awkward 'I'm sorry for putting you through hell' thing with Lestrade, so he immediately started talking about rugby, then switched over to football to try to divert the speech he knew was coming. Lestrade was going off about his favorite player and his on field antics in the last game, when he heard Mycroft coming up the stairs.

When Mycroft came through the door he was also handed a cup of tea and all three made their way into the sitting room. They informed John that the Dursley's had been arrested that afternoon, and by the looks on their faces, John could tell they may have enjoyed it a bit too much. They had been worried that Mr. Dursley's head might actually explode going by the alarming shade of purple he turned, while Mrs. Dursley had covered her head with a scarf and had not looked up at any point until they left the neighborhood. Their child Dudley, had been sent to live with Vernon's sister, his only protest that he would miss his favorite shows because she tended to hog the telly.

After they told their rather hilarious tale, John retrieved the phone from the mantle, and entered the passcode once more. The men in flat became quite serious as the black screen with it's play button came up immediately. He laid the phone on the coffee table and tapped the screen once to start the video.

There was a bit of sound, like something brushing too close to the microphone, then Sherlock's face and upper body came into focus. John gazed at that face, that had haunted so many of his nightmares in the past months and couldn't help but shudder out a breath. Sherlock was seated in his chair in 221B. John could see that there was rain running down the outside of the windowpane behind him. He was dressed in his black suit, white shirt underneath, unbuttoned to the second hole, hair it's usual tousled mess. He sat with his elbows on his knees, leaned forward toward the camera. John could practically see the tension vibrating off of him.

_"John, there are things that I need to tell you, things that need to be said, but there is no time to do it in person. I thought this would be the second best way. If you are seeing this video, then things didn't go to plan. Of course, as it's my plan, I don't see why it wouldn't work, but one must be prepared."_ Sherlock paused moved his hands into his thinking pose and then continued.

_"Moriarty was just here, we had tea, it was all quite civilized I assure you. You would most certainly be proud."_ A quirk of his lips.

_"I haven't worked it out just yet, but I'm sure that he is planning something. I've almost determined what it is, exactly. He said that he 'owed me a fall', and I can only take that to mean literally as well as figuratively. There is a purpose behind this, a means of winning the game, but you already know the outcome, so I won't get into any of that."_

_"His web is huge. I'm certain that it spans the globe and will need to be dismantled, whether he lives or dies. His right hand man and his best sniper, name unknown, will need to be dealt with as soon as possible. He is the largest threat to you."_ At this Sherlock fell silent for almost a minute before continuing.

_"Do not take this to mean you should go looking for him. Just be aware that he exists and use those infamous army instincts that got us out of so many scrapes."_

_"Mycroft, I know you are there or will at least see this video at some point. Your prying, overbearing ways wouldn't let you not see it. I will remind you of the promise which you made to me. Do not forget it, and tell no one."_

_"Lestrade, you're probably there too. Fire Anderson, he's a bumbling idiot bringing down his whole profession, as well as those of everyone in his general vicinity. A ten year old could do a better job than he does, and that's being gracious. You are mildly competent, so do try to use what I have taught you over the years. You should be able to solve most of the cases that cross your desk if you do."_

_"And John, you know I don't do sentiment, but if I must and if this is the only chance to say this...you were my best friend, my only friend. The best man I have ever known. You were my compass and with you things in my head were mostly quiet. You were not always boring and you were above average in intelligence. So...thank you, for staying...it was...good."_

The video cut off after that. John had tears rolling down his cheeks. Mycroft was somber and mirroring Sherlocks pose almost exactly. Lestrade just looked stunned. The three sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions.

Mycroft recovered first by pulling out his phone and texting rapidly. His black ops teams had been raiding sections of Moriarty's web since the day of his death, but now he had a new number one priority in getting rid of the sniper.

John got up and left the room, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind himself. The sound of running water didn't quite cover up the sound of sobs coming from within. Five minutes later the water shut off and the door opened. John was composed, as he sat back into his chair, the only proof of his tears was the red around his eyes.

"He's alive, isn't he?" John spoke softly, looking Mycroft directly in the eyes. He knew, he was in on it, John was absolutely certain of it. Mycroft was absolutely unreadable at this point, but John just knew. What was it Sherlock always told him? When you have gathered all the facts, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

"Yes. Though judging by the video, I don't think even he knew if he would survive Moriarty's final plan. So you see, it is absolutely vital, John, for your safety and his, that no one outside this room find out. Your role is to go on as you have been. Think of Harry if nothing else." John nodded, he had learned to speak Holmes fairly fluently. Sherlock's cover was that no one would be looking for him because he was 'dead' and John's role was to continue to convince everyone of that fact.

Greg was still in a state of shock. "What is my role then?"

Mycroft glanced over at him. "The same as John's. Carry on as you have been. Be seen helping John through his 'grief'. Lives depend on this cover. Yours included. Neither of you would have found out if it wasn't for this message, so you must continue to act as if you do not know the truth. My brother trusts you both, obviously, with his life. I do not have to tell you the consequences if you were to let him down." Both men acknowledged the truth of Mycroft's words before a look of understanding passed between the two of them.

"Should we even be having this conversation here? If Moriarty was ever in the flat, he probably had bugs planted, along with yours." John's mind was moving quickly from one danger to another. His soldier's training picking up any holes in the plan that may exist.

"All of my devices stopped working the day Harry moved into your flat. Their replacements as well. I can only assume any others would have met the same fate." One raised eyebrow from Mycroft told John all he needed to know. Mycroft knew or suspected the truth about Harry.

"Right, okay. So any further conversations about this need to be held here." A nod from Mycroft.  
"Good. Greg, if you're supposed to be helping me through my 'grief' we'll go down to the pub on Friday and catch the game. Make it look like tonight was about making amends and we've decided to be friends again."

"Sounds good. Are we actually friends again?" Greg's face held a frown. He wanted to be on good terms with John again, not just because of Sherlock, but because he genuinely liked the man. He knew his part in Sherlock's arrest is what had caused the main breech, with the intense investigation that followed his death, only widening it.

"Not yet, but we'll get there. Won't be hard to fake rebuilding the friendship, since that's what we'll actually be doing." Greg nodded, gave a small smile, and then rose from his seat.

"See you Friday, then. Text me a time. Interesting as always Mycroft." With a small wave, he was out the door. He knew they needed to talk and with his phone vibrating in his pocket for the last two minutes, he suspected he needed to get back to work.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was co-authored/beta'd by the wonderful Kai19, who helped me with the Sherlock parts! As always I love getting your feedback, so let me know what you think! Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	17. Full Disclosure

You weren't going to tell me, were you?" John ran his thumb over his bottom lip. He had been kept in the dark for nearly a year, he doubted he would have found out if it weren't for the video.

"It may surprise you, John, that I was in disagreement with my brother on this point. I felt you had a right to know. He argued that you did not need to know, as he suspected it would drive you to do something rash, like go looking for him." John was mildly shocked. He figured the argument had occurred the other way around.

"Is he coming back then? When was the last time you spoke?" It was not often that either Holmes answered questions in so forthright a manner, so John figured he should take advantage while Mycroft seemed to be in the mood to indulge him.

"Yes, he is planning to return when he deems it safe for both of you. I take that to mean once he has destroyed every last person who could pose as a danger. As for the second question, we do not speak as such. We have set regular check in times and days. He texts me a code word and the coordinates to the closest largest city. In return, I text him coordinates to pick up supplies and funds using that knowledge. I do not know his exact location, but always have a general area in which he should be. He has not missed a check-in since he left." John absorbed this information. It was very clever, but at the same time very simple. He was only surprised that Mycroft let him have that much freedom.

"It was one of his stipulations in accepting my help. I had to let him handle the problems as he saw fit. He pointed out that it was easier to get one man in and out of a situation than it was for a team of people. If he does not make check-in, we have an area to start searching, and I always have a team on standby for that eventuality."

"Bugger. I don't like it, but if it works, okay." John ran his hands through his hair. The thought of Sherlock out there without backup did not sit well with him, his every instinct screaming at him that he should be there. Then he remembered the main reason that couldn't happen. Harry.

John had already decided to trust Mycroft with Harry's safety when they were in Lestrade's office. He had thought the phone might be a trap by the enemy, although it wasn't. The things that it revealed made John even more sure of his course of action. There was still the very real threat of danger. Albus and Kingsley would need to be informed, Mycroft as well. If something were to happen to John, Mycroft would be the first to know and therefore would become Harry's second line of protection against the unknown.

"How much do you know about Harry, Mycroft?" John was suddenly more than a little nervous. He was not supposed to share Harry's secrets with anyone, but then Mycroft was not just anyone.

"Relax, John. You do not have to tell me his secrets. I already knew of him and made the connection once you told me his name. In my position, I often have contact with the magical world. I have worked very closely with Mr. Shacklebolt in the past and we had a meeting about Harry's situation very early this morning. He explained everything quite clearly once he understood your role in my life and that you were under my protection, which now extends to Harry as well, he was quite relieved." Mycroft was very calm, but John had to roll his eyes at his interfering once again. He understood that it was in Harry's best interest, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

"See that right there, Mycroft, secret meetings behind my back, that's what annoys me and makes you very hard to like." John's tone was exasperated, but held no real heat. "Also, when did I suddenly come under your protection?"

Mycroft was amused and let it show. "John, really? You have been under my protection since the night you shot the cabbie to save Sherlock. I honestly thought you were aware of that."

"No, sorry, must have missed that memo. Aright then, is that all? I'm knackered." He rubbed his hands over his face for a moment, before looking back to his guest. He had a lot to process after tonight.

"Just one more thing, John. I would like to spend some time with Harry. I'm quite intrigued by him." John was shocked. He had not been expecting that and wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of Mycroft and Harry spending time together. He didn't think Mycroft would want to have much to do with children.

"Sorry, I think I misheard you. You want to spend time with Harry? You do know he's not an experiment?" Mycroft gave John a look that said he was being an idiot.

"Wrong brother. I do not experiment on children. You should also realize that while I normally do not spend time around children, it does not mean that I do not like them. I practically raised Sherlock after all. Forgoing all of that, Harry is a very special little boy and as close to a nephew as I am likely to get, so I thought it would be appropriate."

Again John was shocked. Did that comment mean that Mycroft thought of John as a brother (shudder) or that he expected Sherlock to help raise Harry when and if he ever came home? Back burner, Watson, you're not ready to think about that yet, he told to himself. John trusted Mycroft to a point. He knew Harry would be as safe as Mycroft could possibly make him, physically. Was Harry mentally ready to take on a Holmes, though? Probably better for him to start with Mycroft, either way.

"Alright, but I want Anthea with you the first few times you meet. He likes her and is comfortable with her. I think he might even have a bit of a crush. No kidnapping him for any reason and you always clear it with me first. I always know where you are going and what you are doing. Think you can abide by that?" John didn't really expect for Mycroft to concede, but thought he should try to lay down some ground rules on principle.

"Of course, John. All very reasonable requests. You make quite a good parent." John listened for anything condescending in either his words or tone, but did not find anything.

"I believe Harry has a tea date with Anthea on Sunday. Would it be too much trouble for me to join them?" John just shook his head. Of course Mycroft knew what he and Anthea had planned this afternoon when he had collected Harry at the cafe across from NSY.

"No, that's fine. I'll let him know to expect you to be there." John rubbed his forehead with two fingers. Mycroft rose from his chair, as gracefully as ever, buttoned his suit jacket, and collected his ever present umbrella.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding, John. I'll look forward to meeting our young friend on Sunday and will let you know if I hear from Sherlock. Goodnight"

Mycroft made his way to the door. John called a quick 'Night' to him before he let his head fall against the back of his chair. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in all the thoughts this day had left him with.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! So what did you think? Mycroft and John have reached an understanding, Mycroft for once told the whole truth, and John is going to let him spend time with Harry. I've got the next four chapters planned, but those evil plot monkeys are always hanging around, so who knows what will happen! Anything in particular you would like to see?  
Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	18. A Night at the Pub

The rest of the week passed fairly quickly after learning all he had on Tuesday night. John felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Sherlock was alive, he was planning to come home at some point (if he survived the evil genius criminal mastermind's minions) and all John had to do now was carry on as normal and watch his back. He was angry at Sherlock for putting him through the emotional ringer and hadn't yet decided whether to punch him or hug him when he returned, maybe both, but he was fairly certain he had a while before he needed to worry about it.

Friday afternoon, during a break between patients, John pulled out his phone and texted Lestrade. Forgiving him for doing his job was a little easier knowing that Sherlock was alive. They had had regular meetings at the pub before the fall, and John had to admit he had missed that a little bit. He could also admit that he had drawn so far into himself that he had almost cut off every person that reminded him of Sherlock afterwards, with the exceptions of Mrs. Hudson (who was a treasure) and Mycroft (who wouldn't leave him alone no matter how much he protested).

Harry and Mrs. Hudson were settled in to 221A to have a movie night. John strolled leisurely to the pub that was half way between Baker Street and the NSY. It had been his and Greg's usual meeting place when pub nights had been a regular thing. Entering the pub, John looked around quickly, but not seeing Greg he went to the bar to get a couple of pints, after which he managed to snag a table in the very back corner. Being Friday night, the place was quite busy. John people watched while waiting for Greg.

Occasionally he was able to deduce something about a fellow patron. The tall man in the corner, had a small white dog, perhaps a toy poodle. (Curly white hairs on his trouser leg above he ankle, but below the knee.) The woman in the red business suit sitting at the bar was cheating on or divorcing her husband. (Tan line on the left ring finger. A ring was obviously worn, but was not in sight. Husband, because of the flirtatious smiles and body language for the bloke next to her.) The bloke standing at the bar looking at John. (Gay, trying to figure out if he wants to come over and chat me up. Theory confirmed by the wink and smile.) John looked away quickly. Luckily Lestrade chose that moment to walk in the door of the pub. John waved slightly to get his attention, then gestured to the pint already waiting for him. Lestrade made his way over and practically fell into his chair.

"Ta, for this mate!" Greg toasted with his glass before chugging half of it in one gulp. John grinned.

"Good day at the office then?" Greg slumped back in his chair, setting his pint back on the table. He ran a hand over his hair and sighed.

"Got a case, would be right up Sherlock's alley. Locked room, no visible cause of death, healthy nineteen year old boy. Tox screen is coming back clean as a whistle. Autopsy couldn't give us anything either. It's like he just died for no reason." John had nodded as Greg relayed the facts.

"No medical reason? Bad heart, brain tumor, anything?" Greg shook his head.

"Kid was in great shape, there is nothing." Another chug on his pint.

"Anyway, you're not here to listen to me whine about not being able to solve crimes. How've you been? How's Harry?" John gave Lestrade a quick briefing of life at Baker Street, leaving out all the best anecdotes. (Most had to do with Harry's accidental magic) He also told him about Mycroft wanting to spend time with Harry.

"I don't know if it's a brilliant idea or an absolutely crazy one! Can you imagine Mycroft in his three piece suit at the zoo?" Greg's head tilted as if he was trying to picture the scene in his head. After a few moments, a grin, then a small chuckle. He shook his head.

"Nope can't picture it, but I would pay to have a picture of it!" Another chuckle from both of them.

"What about you Greg? What's new?" Greg put him on pause to go to the bar to get another round. After returning, he set John's drink in front of him and sat back down with his own in hand.

"Got divorced. Papers went through in August. She got the house and is pregnant with another man's child, I got my motorcycle and an overpriced flat closer to work that I don't spend enough time in." Another gulp of beer and a discreet perusal of the woman that walked by the table.

"God, mate, I'm sorry to hear that." Greg gave him a dazzling, genuine smile.

"Why? I'm not. Truth is, I'm the happiest I've been in years and so is she." John smiled wryly.

"Well as long as everything worked out in the end, yeah? Looks like I've got myself a wingman!" A clap to Gregs shoulder accompanied the statement.

"Oi! Like you need a wingman Mr. "Three Continents Watson"! I think you should be my wingman. I've been out of the scene for a lot longer than you have, you'll have to remind me how it's done."  
They both chuckled again.

"I haven't been TWC in a long while, Greg. Besides, I think all you'll have to do to pull the ladies is put on your gear, get on your bike, a give 'em that charming smile of yours. You're a silver fox, you are!" John faked being awestruck by Greg's good looks, dopey smile in place, elbow on the table, chin in hand.

Greg faked being shocked. Hand to chest in a rather effeminate manner, eyelashes fluttering, high (very bad) Scarlett O'Hara voice coming out. "Why Dr. Watson, I never knew you felt that way! Oh, happy day!"

They dissolved into giggles and John though they must look like maniacs. He was really enjoying himself, which he hadn't done in a long while. They finished their second round of pints and John went to the bar for more. Just as John reached the table and set down both glasses, his phone vibrated. He pulled out his phone first, saw there was no message or alert and then pulled out the pink phone he'd taken to carrying around with him. There was a text waiting. The number was blocked and when he opened it there were a set of coordinates, a date and a time, followed by a series of numbers and letters.

_24 Oct 10:20pm 52*22'N 2*9'W 4D2H0E NI CFSB_

John's heart thundered. Mycroft had told them that Sherlock checked in with coordinates to the city he was closest to. He must have figured out John would have received the phone by now and texted him as well as Mycroft. Greg noticed that John was staring intently at his phone and stood up to read over his shoulder. He frowned not understanding why John needed coordinates.

"John, what's wrong? What's that message mean?" John looked up from his phone, his smile blinding.

"Oh, that impossible git!" He pulled Greg in close and whispered in his ear. "You remember our friend who is traveling? He's checking in, letting us know he's okay and where he is." Stepping back, John pulled up the browser on his phone and searched for the coordinates. _Amsterdam_. John still didn't know what the letters and numbers meant, he'd have to check with Mycroft.

They sat back down, but both knew they couldn't risk openly talking here. In agreement they quickly finished their pints before leaving to make their way back to Baker Street. When they arrived at 221B John popped his head in to Mrs. Hudson's flat to find them both asleep on her floral sofa. Mrs. Hudson's head was resting against the back of the sofa, knitting resting in her lap, snoring quietly. Harry was curled up beside her, head on her shoulder, wrapped in his Despicable Me throw blanket. The movie UP! was playing on the telly in the background. John decided to leave them where they were until he and Greg could finish their talk.

He quietly made his way out, shutting the door behind him before joining Greg upstairs. Greg had put the kettle on and was in the kitchen leaning against the countertop when he came into the room. John sat himself in one of the kitchen chairs and allowed Greg to prepare his cuppa. Once they were both settled in, John filled Greg in on what Mycroft had told him about the check-ins and coordinates.

"I don't know what the code means, he didn't mention that part to me. I would try to figure it out, but I'd probably just give myself a headache. I thought it might be like the Blind Banker case, put there were no letters in that one, only numbers. I'll ask Mycroft about it on Sunday, then I'll let you know."

They talked for a little while longer before Greg headed home and John headed back downstairs to collect Harry and send Mrs. Hudson to bed with a thanks and a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn't stir while John carried him upstairs and put him to bed, which was probably a good thing. He had a big day tomorrow, with Hermione coming over for their playdate and then tea with Mycroft and Anthea on Sunday afternoon. Sometime in the next week they'd need to get Harry a Halloween costume.

Greg had reminded him that the Yard always opened their doors for kids to trick or treat there in a safe environment, as opposed to going door to door and John thought it sounded like a good way to start rebuilding relationships with those he had been estranged with at the yard as well as introduce Harry to everyone.

It looked to be a busy week and John was glad for it. He missed the adrenaline of chasing Sherlock through the streets of London in pursuit of a suspect or data for a case. His life with Harry was almost a complete 180 of his life with Sherlock, but it was still never boring

* * *

_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I'm so glad you have liked the story so far! The response with your follows/favorites/reviews has been amazing! I am still going my best to try to work in as many of your ideas as possible, but I am writing about four chapters ahead of what I have posted at the moment so it may take a bit before you see your ideas. **_

_**The next few chapters are going to be quite lighthearted with a bit of fluff thrown in, so I hope they make you chuckle or at least crack a smile! As always if you have any questions or ideas, please let me know! And if anyone knows how to make the degrees symbol on a bluetooth Mac keyboard that would be sooooo helpful! Up next, Hermione & Kingsley, Uncle Mycroft and Anthea, Halloween and Christmas. **_

_**Until next time gentle viewers, enjoy!**_


	19. Accidental Magic

On Saturday morning, John was awoken by Harry launching himself into his bed. He was still all knees and elbows which caused John to grunt quite a bit when certain sensitive body parts were accidentally struck. When he finally settled, Harry was on his knees beside John, skinny arms propped on John's shoulders, face about an inch from his own. John cracked one eye open just enough to see and was slightly taken aback by his proximity.

"John." Harry whispered. "John are you awake?" John chuckled. After the whirlwind named Harry had hit his bed, it would be impossible for him to not be awake.

"Mmmmhmm. I'm awake." Harry scrambled up to his feet and started to bounce on the bed.

"John! Hermione is coming today, we have to get up!" John opened both eyes and grinned up at the bouncing figure. He glanced over at his bedside clock and groaned before sitting up. He snagged Harry under his arms and pulled him down to sit in his lap.

"It's half seven, Harry. Hermione won't be here for another three hours. We've got plenty of time. Why don't you go turn on the telly and watch cartoons while I get up and get our breakfast started?" Harry reached up and gave John a hug before scooting off his lap and down to the floor.

"Hurry John! I'm starving!" He ran out of the room and a few seconds later he heard the telly turn on in the sitting room. Stretching his arms he climbed out of bed and began his morning routine. Showered, shaved and dressed, he went to the kitchen and started the kettle, then pulled bacon and eggs out of the fridge. He set about making their breakfast and the rest of the morning passed in their usual routine.

Harry had been practically vibrating with excitement the whole morning, so when the bell rang for the outer door, Harry was down the stairs and pulling the door open before John could tell him to be careful. "Hi 'Mione! Hi Mr. G'anger!"  
John was at the top of the stairs watching Harry and Hermione, who was in a very similar state, start chattering the minute the laid eyes on each other. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and they made their way back upstairs so he could show her his room and all his toys. John met Mr. Granger at the bottom of the staircase.

"Hi Dr. Watson, sorry about being early, she's been bouncing off the walls in excitement. It's all she's talked about for the last two days. You would think they hadn't seen each other in weeks instead of days." Both men smiled at each other and shook their heads.

"Harry's been the same. I was thinking of taking them to the zoo today, weather is supposed to be nice." Mr. Granger nodded.

"Hermione loves the zoo. I'll be back around nine to pick her up. The wife and I are going to use this as date night. Call me if you need anything though." They shook hands and Mr. Granger left for home.

Back upstairs, John checked the backpack he had packed in preparation for their zoo trip and went up to Harry's room to get the kids ready to head out. He found them both laying on their stomachs on Harry's bed looking through his animal encyclopedia.

"You guys ready to head out?" They jumped up off the bed and the trio made their way out into the street headed towards the zoo. John had each child by the hand and he listened to their commentary, chiming in every so often. After they acquired a cab and were on their way, the subject of everyone's favorite animal came up.

"I love giraffe's! They are funny with their long legs and necks! Did you know their tongues are black and can be up to 18 inches long? They eat almost 25 pounds of food and drink almost 10 gallons of water everyday!"

John smiled at Hermione's shocked look. He had taken Harry to the library and gotten him several books, but he one on giraffe's he had read and reread until he could almost quote the book line for line.

Knowing that Harry could and would continue, John interrupted. "What about you Hermione? What is your favorite animal?"

"I like elephants. They are very smart and they touch each other a lot. They can be up to 11 feet tall and they eat plants! Only, I wish they were pink. Grey is boring." Hermione told them.

Shortly after they arrived at the zoo. John held their hands again while he got tickets and they made their way in. The started in the reptile house, made their way through to the aviary, then on to the small mammals and aquatic animals. John saved the african animals for last figuring they would be spending a lot of time there.

The lions were a hit with the two youngsters, but started off a round of meowing and giggling. The primates were also quite enjoyable to watch until John saw two of the monkeys start to mate and decided they should move along. He answered questions when he could, and read off the plaques when he didn't know the answer. They finally approached the giraffes, where John paid five pounds each for the kids to be able to feed them by hand. Hermione squealed when the giraffe's tongue touched her hand, but Harry was about as close to heaven as he could possibly be. After half an hour, they convinced Harry to move onto the elephants so Hermione could have her turn with her favorite animal.

The zookeepers were giving the elephants baths when they arrived. John stepped back from the enclosure when his phone rang, still keeping the two children in sight. It was Sarah from work asking about a patient he had treated earlier in the week. John told her all she needed to know and just as he hung up there was a commotion from the zookeepers in the enclosure. Harry looked terrified and glanced at John quickly. Hermione had an intense look of concentration on her face and didn't look away from the elephants.

John looked into the enclosure and nearly swallowed his tongue. The elephant that had been getting a bath was now covered in pink polka dots. The zookeeper was frantically trying to wash them off, thinking it must be some kind of prank, while yelling at his co-worker who was in turn yelling into his hand held radio. John gathered up Harry and Hermione quickly and told them it was time to be heading home. He tried to remain calm and remember what Albus and Minerva had told him about situations such as this. When they were a safe distance away from the african animals, John pulled out his phone and dialled Mycroft.

"Mycroft, I'm at the zoo with Harry and Hermione. We've had a little incident and I need Kingsley here as soon as possible." He listened for a few moments. "Well..oh God...lets just say there is now a gestating elephant sporting pink polka dots."

John listened for a few more moments before relaying their position to Mycroft. He stood there with Harry and Hermione who were whispering furiously to each other, for no more than two minutes before Kingsley Shacklebolt walked up behind him. "Afternoon, John! Harry! And who might this lovely young lady be?"

Harry grinned up at Kingsley. "This is my best friend 'Mione!"

After introductions were finished they made their way back to the elephant enclosure with Kingsley in tow. When he got a look at the pink polka dotted pachyderm, he couldn't contain his laughter. After getting ahold of himself he muttered a few words and discretely flicked his wand wrist. The pink polka dots started to wash away with the water.

"I'll meet you back at Baker Street. I think we need to have a talk." John nodded and watched him walk away. The ride back to Baker Street was far quieter than the ride this morning had been. Harry was obviously worried about John's reaction and Hermione was wringing her hands in distress. When they arrived, he escorted the two somber children up the stairs to find Kingsley waiting in his sitting room. "You two on the couch."

The children climbed onto the couch and John took Sherlock's old chair since Kingsley was already settled into his.

"Harry, I'm not mad about what happened, but we have talked about his and I'm very disappointed that you chose to do something like that in such a public area." Harry was shaking his head no the whole time John was talking.

"Actually, John, I don't think it was Harry." John looked at Kingsley in confusion. If it wasn't Harry...he then looked over at Hermione. She had her head down and was still worrying her hands.

"Hermione, did you do something that caused the elephant to have pink spots?' She nodded without looking up. John looked at Kingsley again, eyes wide as if to say "What the hell?"

"Hermione, how did you do that?" She finally looked up at him and he could see the tears in her eyes.

"I just thought about it really hard and pictured it in my head. I've done it before. Sometimes when I don't like the show on the telly, if I concentrate really hard, I can change the channels. When I get mad, it gets windy in the room, even if the windows aren't open." Bloody hell, thought John. Harry would find a best friend who happened to be a witch herself wouldn't he?

"Alright Hermione, it's okay, I'm not mad at you. We'll talk about it later. Harry, I'm sorry I thought it was you." Harry gave John a small smile, though Hermione still looked pretty miserable.

"Can we go play in my room?" Harry asked.

"Sure, go ahead." They ran up the stairs quickly, obviously eager to escape.

John looked back at Kingsley who had tried and failed to hide his amusement. "Your kid would be the one to find a muggle born witch and make her his best friend. I for one thought the pink polka dots were quite a stylish addition."

John tried to frown and look stern, he really did, but he lost his battle as well and they both dissolved into grins and chuckles.

"So what do we do next? If her parents are muggles, they don't have a clue about magic. She and Harry are practically inseparable, so now we're going to be dealing with two of them instead of just one."

"I'll let Dumbledore know what happened. He or Minerva will talk to the parents about the situation. Although I must say, most four year olds don't have enough control over their magic to make things happen. As you know they usually happen by accident because of strong emotions. That Ms. Granger can already focus her magic means she may be quite a powerful witch." John nodded his understanding.

"Good. I won't mention this when they pick her up this evening. Thank you for coming so quickly. Hedwig is still at Hogwarts and hasn't been home in almost a week, so I had no way of getting into contact with anyone else." Kingsley assured him it was his pleasure, shook his hand, and then walked downstairs before apparating back to the ministry.

The rest of the day was incident free. By the time the Grangers arrived to collect Hermione, all trepidation about the zoo trip had been forgotten and John handed off a sleeping Hermione to her father with a whispered goodnight to the two adults.

* * *

_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I thought it was time to see Hermione again and to let her loose on the world, so to speak! Loving the ideas you guys are coming up with in the reviews! I definately saw a couple that made me go...yeah that would definintely work! So if I use your idea, I'll make sure you get credit for it! It seems that my little 'throw it up on the internet, cover your eyes and runaway' fic is doing better than I ever expected, so thank you once again for your favorites/follows/reviews! I will try to respond to all the reviews in the next few days! Also, I based this off of the Dallas Zoo, so I'm sure I got things REALLY wrong. I haven't been to London, yet...but it's in the works! **_

_**Up next: Uncle Mycroft and Anthea, Halloween with Anderson & Donovan as well as the rest of NSY, and then Christmas! Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!**_


	20. Uncle Mycroft

Sunday afternoon was a typical London day. It was rainy with a thick fog surrounding everything. John had dressed Harry warmly in jeans and a jumper and tried to get his hair to lay flat to no avail. He knew that if Mycroft was involved tea would likely be in a four or five star hotel or restaurant and he didn't want to send Harry into that unprepared.

"You remember your manners. Say please and thank you. Wait for Anthea to sit down first and pull her chair out for her. Ready?" Harry nodded and they went down the stairs.

At precisely three o'clock there was a knock on the outer door. John let Harry open the door and invite Mycroft and Anthea in. To John's surprise they were both dressed casually, well as casually as he could ever imagine Mycroft dressing. He wore black dress slacks, and a white button down shirt, over the top of which he had on a dark green cashmere jumper. John would bet that his outfit probably cost roughly the same as John's entire wardrobe, but he had learned long ago to be content with what he had. Although that jumper did look rather comfy.

Anthea was the picture of up to the minute style in dark skinny jeans, knee high boots, white button up with a cardigan over the top as well as a scarf draped around her neck. She smiled widely at Harry and got down on his level once again so he could give her a hug. If John didn't know better he would think this was her twin. She was wonderful with Harry, but a completely different person than the one he saw when she was at work, not that he was complaining. He never saw her ever present cell phone when she was with Harry either.

Mycroft was standing next to John watching with an indulgent smile on his face. Harry eventually turned around and faced Mycroft. He'd had Hermione practice with him yesterday afternoon on how he should introduce himself. "Hello Mr. Holmes, I'm Harry Potter Watson."

John nearly swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh. He definitely hadn't taught Harry that introduction and it sounded suspiciously rehearsed. Harry Potter Watson? Where had that come from? Mycroft was looking way too amused for John's peace of mind. "Well Mr. Potter-Watson it is my pleasure to meet you. Are you ready for tea?"

Harry nodded his head and after a glance at John, added "Yes, sir."

Harry went to John and gave him a quick hug around his leg. John couldn't resist getting in a dig for the Potter-Watson gibe from Mycroft. "Be good for Uncle Mycroft, Harry."

Anthea took his hand and headed out toward the car. The driver was waiting outside the door with an umbrella at the ready. Mycroft turned to John. "Childish Dr. Watson."

John just grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He really did enjoy messing with Mycroft. "You're the one that said he was your nephew. I'm just helping you out."

"Yes, well...we will be at this location. You have our numbers should you need us. We will return at promptly six pm." Mycroft handed him a card with all the details on it and then joined Harry and Anthea in the car.

John was slightly concerned about how the afternoon would go, but hopefully Anthea's surprising warmth with Harry would soothe any prickles that Mycroft might cause. He returned upstairs to start the weekend chores that had been put off due to yesterday's playdate.

In the car, Mycroft was content to let Harry talk. He learned quite a bit about the boy just from what he was telling Anthea. He seemed to be considerably well adjusted given what his formative years had been like. He was also quite like Sherlock had been as a child. He was very curious about the world around him and was fairly observant for a child who was not a Holmes.

When they arrived at the family restaurant Anthea had chosen he watched as Harry pulled out Anthea's chair for her before climbing into his own. He saw John's tutelage in that move, but could not find fault in it. When they were settled and were ready to order their tea items, they hit a small glitch when Harry protested his choice in sandwiches, but was easily cleared up when the waiter let them know of the more child friendly choices.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Myc'oft, but I don't like cress." Mycroft's eyebrow went up a little at the use of 'Uncle' but he let it pass.

"It's quite alright Harry. I have not been around children in a very long time. I seem to have forgotten what you like to eat. What else do you not like?" Harry only had a small list of things that weren't palatable to him including brussel sprouts, nutella, mangos, and olives.

"I heard you had quite an adventure at the zoo yesterday, Harry. Would you tell me about it?" As Harry told them of his adventure yesterday that ended with pink polka dotted pachyderms, both Mycroft and Anthea were nearly in stitches at his description of the days events.

"Well it sounds like Hermione is a lovely girl." Mycroft's smile was genuine.

"She's fantastic!" Harry chimed in enthusiastically a crooked grin on his face.

"Is she the one that taught you to introduce yourself as Harry Potter-Watson?" Harry nodded.

""Mione said that because John is my Papa and his last name is Watson then my last name should be Watson too. I told her John wasn't my Papa, that he was my cousin, but she said he does all the things Papas do, so that makes him my Papa." Mycroft listened carefully. For two four year olds to have such a logical argument surprised him a little, though growing up with Sherlock had prepared him for quite a lot.

"Would you like to call him Papa, Harry? I'm certain that he won't take offense to whatever decision you make." Harry chewed his lip as he thought over Mycroft's question.

"I think I do. I know my Mum and Dad are dead, but all the other kids have Mums and Dads. There is even a boy in my class that has two Mums and no Dad! Do you think it will be okay?" He looked to Mycroft, eyes wide behind his round glasses.

"I think he would like that very much, Harry." He gave him a reassuring smile before Anthea quickly started them in on a new subject while their tea was being served.

Somehow, a game of "Did you know?" got started toward the end of the meal and Mycroft found he was impressed by how much Harry did know about animals, plants, and Doctor Who. Anthea was the one who called the game to a halt when she received a text on her phone saying that John had gone out to run errands and was going to be a bit late getting back to the flat.

They decided to wait at Baker Street for John. The black car was at the curb, but was empty when John entered the flat loaded down with grocery bags. He made his way up the stairs and opened the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Anthea was seated on the sofa recording the scene before her, which consisted of Harry with one of John's neckties tied around his head and a black patch over his eye waving John's old aluminum cane. Mycroft, attired similarly, was using his umbrella as a sword.

"Arrrr, you knave! Surrender! You have plundered all my treasure and I'll be havin' it back!" Mycroft announced as he tapped the cane with his umbrella a few times.

"I'll never surrender. I found the treasure and I'll be keepin' it! You'll walk the plank!" At that Harry used the cane against the umbrella a few more times before getting in a jab to Mycroft's stomach that made John wince in sympathy.

"Oh! You've got me!" Mycroft pretended to sink the floor as if he was dying. "It'll be Davy Jones' locker for me yet!" As Mycroft 'died' Harry ran back to the take away box on the coffee table and picked it up before coming over to Anthea.

"Fair maiden! I have found the treasure for you and killed the mad pirate Holmes!" Anthea stopped filming so that she could play her part.

"Oh my hero!" She proceeded to grab Harry and cover his face in kisses until he was laughing hysterically.

Once he had calmed down he spotted John standing in the doorway with his jaw nearly on the floor. "John! I killed the mad pirate Holmes and won the fair maiden and the treasure!"

Harry was beaming at John. "I saw that." John looked over to Mycroft who was getting up off the floor and Anthea who was blushing slightly. John shook himself and focused back on Harry

"Well I'm glad that the world has one less mad pirate! Well done!" He smiled. He was still not sure what exactly he had seen, but Harry was happy, so he wasn't going to say a word. He walked into the kitchen and sat the groceries on the table before returning to the sitting room. Harry was saying his goodbyes and thank yous to Mycroft. John walked over to Anthea.

"What are the chances of me getting a copy of that video?" She smirked up at him. "Already sent to your phone and e-mail."

John smiled. "You're the best!"

Another smirk was set his way. "I know. It's one of the reasons he pays me so well!"

Mycroft walked over to John as Harry switched over to Anthea. "Thank you, John. We had a wonderful time today. We would like to take him out again next Sunday, if you don't mind?"

John just nodded. "He seemed to have a good time too. Send me the details and I'll let you know."

"I wanted to ask you about something, step in here for mo?" John gestured to the kitchen. With a slight nod, Mycroft followed him in.

"I got a text on the pink phone. Coordinates for Amsterdam. There was a code following the coordinates, what does it mean?"

"Ah, he must know or have anticipated that you had received the phone. It is simply a status report. 4D2H0E - 4 dead, 2 hurt, 0 escaped - meaning the operatives he was aiming for. NI - no injuries, meaning to himself. CFSB - clothing, food, shelter, bullets - the list of supplies he needs for his next mission. It is a simple code if you know the meaning behind it."

John thought about it for a moment. "It's clever in it's simplicity. So I just have to think about what he might need. Keep it at the basic level and I should be able to figure it out?"

"I believe so, yes." John thought about it for a second longer before pushing it to the back of his mind to pull out later and mull over.

"Right, thanks. I'll let you know about next weekend." They walked back into the sitting room.

With one last goodbye Mycroft and Anthea departed. Harry filled in John on all the details of their tea date while he unloaded and put away the groceries. John sent Greg the video of Mycroft and Harry playing pirates at the first opportunity. It really was too good not to share.

* * *

_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I hope you have all been enjoying the last few chapters! This chapter is for the lovely Fernsfairie who asked for caring Uncle Mycroft and for the fantastic Kai19 who asked for Mycroft and Harry to have a small disagreement over what to have for tea! (Not sure this is exactly what you were thinking of, but this is what happened!) Thank you for all your wonderful ideas!**_

_**The next few chapters are going to be milestones that happen throughout the year, so we'll be jumping several months at a time, but don't worry, you'll be able to track it! (Got a surprise for you on how I'm going to do that! Hint: look for patterns) I also hoped you liked the "code" that Sherlock uses in his texts, and if you have any questions about it let me know!  
Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!**_


	21. Doctors and Daleks

After the rather exciting weekend they'd had, John found himself getting up way too early on Monday morning. He had stayed up well into the night thinking over all the mind boggling information he had been hit with in the last week. Sherlock was alive, Greg was divorced and rode a motorcycle, Harry's best friend was a witch, Mycroft played pirates (fairly well, not that John would ever admit it out loud) and Harry had asked to call him Papa.

* * *

When he had put Harry to bed the night before, he had told him of another case he and Sherlock had worked on together. Normally when he was done with the case Harry was fast asleep, but tonight he was wide awake. John had been watching his up down glances for the last few minutes and Harry wa practically wringing the fabric of his bedspread in his hands.

"Harry did you have something you wanted to ask me about?" He looked up at John.

"Can I call you Papa?" He whispered it, but John heard and couldn't help but be flabbergasted. He had never planned on having kids, but hadn't thought twice about taking Harry in. He already thought of Harry as his, so why did such a simple question cause something in his chest to catch? It wasn't fear or trepidation, honestly John was having a hard time identifying the emotion, but he knew it was a good one.

John let loose with his biggest smile. "Of course you can call me Papa, Harry. I am honored that you want to."

Harry smiled back shyly while John blinked away a few tears. "Now tell me what you want to be for Halloween! We only have a few days to decide!"

"I want to go as the Doctor!" John giggled, somehow he was not surprised by this choice. He thought it over, the costume should be easy enough to pull together with a trip to the department store.

"What about you Papa? What do you want to be for Halloween?" That hitch happened in John's chest again and he rubbed the spot over his heart. He thought it over for a few minutes before coming to a decision.

"How about if I go as Rory the Roman? Then we can look for our missing Ponds together?" Harry's eyes got wide and his crooked little smile lit up his face. "Really?"

"Really, really. We'll go tomorrow afternoon after work and school and get our costumes." He gave Harry a hug, then kissed his lightening scar as had become their bedtime ritual, then left the room after turning out the light.

* * *

After dropping Harry at school and arriving at the clinic, he found his day dragging by. He had to admit that he was looking forward to spending the evening shopping for costumes. Last year, he had not been in a good place and had not celebrated the holiday, the year before that he and Sherlock had been on a case, and the previous years before that he had mostly been deployed. On the few years he was home for Halloween, he used to dress as a soldier. He was looking forward to going all out with Harry this year.

When his day was finally over, he collected Harry and they were off to the shops to get what they needed. A few hours later, they were set. John tried not to think about how cold he was probably going to be in his costume and sandals.

The rest of their week dragged on in the same manner as Monday, but Halloween finally arrived. Sarah let him leave early along with the few other parents on staff. Back at the flat he got Harry dressed first. He had on a pair of dark colored corduroy trousers and black boots. John had found a blue dress shirt, red suspenders and bowtie, and luckily a brown tweed jacket. John used gel to comb his hair over to the side and with his sonic screwdriver toy he looked like a miniature version of the Doctor. John took a few pictures with his phone until Mrs. Hudson came up and started cooing over how adorable he looked. She had brought treats with her, so Harry didn't seem to mind too much.

John went into his room and pulled his costume out of it's hanging bag. When he had suggested going as a centurion, he hadn't really thought through what the costume would consist of. He pulled on his red boxer briefs, then the red undershift. Luckily it was long sleeved. He then put on the red overshirt and breastplate, from which the leather strips of his 'skirt' and scabbard fell. Pulling up the brown leggings, he put the sandals on followed by his arm gauntlets and shin guards. He gathered the cape and plastic sword and went out into the sitting room standing at attention to pull off the look of a soldier.

"Papa, you look fantastic!" Harry cried when he spotted John decked out in his costume.

Mrs. Hudson smiled and took the cape from him before attaching it to the hooks hidden in the collar of his shirt. He slid the fake sword into its scabbard. Mrs. Hudson insisted on taking pictures of the two of them and they happily posed for her while she went on about how handsome her boys were.

They managed to extricate themselves a few minutes later and headed toward New Scotland Yard. They had to walk a couple of blocks before they could get a cab and were stopped five times so strangers could comment on how cute Harry looked. Harry loved all the attention he was getting, but kept insisting they must be on their way, they had to find their "Ponds"!

When they finally arrived at the Yard, they took the elevator up to Lestrade's floor. John handed Harry his treat bag as they exited the elevator and they begin to make their way to all the occupied desks. Harry charmed his way through several of the Yard's finest officers simply by being himself and occasionally quoting lines of Doctor Who to them. John could see the questions in their eyes, but instead of asking them, they simply said it was good to see him again and how handsome he looked as a Roman.

John was grateful that they didn't bring up Sherlock or spout rude questions in front of Harry. He thought they were doing fairly well until he spotted Donovan and Anderson sitting on her desk. He tried to steer Harry in the other direction, but Harry was having too much fun to be diverted from his goal. As they approached the pair, John shot warning looks with his eyes. Sally picked up on them immediately, it seemed their little 'discussion' had had the desired effect. Anderson, however, was gaping at the pair of them.

"Oi, Watson! What are you doing here? I would have thought you'd be too ashamed to show your face here after what the Psychopath did!" Sally elbowed him in the side trying to get him to shut up, but it seemed he was as obtuse as Sherlock had always accused him of being. He looked down and Harry and opened his mouth, but Lestrade, who had been approaching from behind him managed to speak first.

"Anderson! You are completely out of line!" He barked. "John and Harry are here on my invitation, so shut it!" Anderson flushed red at being reprimanded in the middle of the fairly busy room.

Harry was looking between the adults in confusion. John was desperately trying to reign in his anger, Sally was trying to pull Anderson from the room, and Lestrade was furious.

Still, knowing when to shut up had never been one of Anderson's strengths, so he looked back at Harry, and unwisely said what he was thinking. "Is that the Freak's kid?"

He looked back at John, whose hands were clenched into fists, before Harry let out a yell the likes of which John had heard only once. " I AM NOT A FREAK! You are a mean man, you...you...DALEK!"

Harry stomped his foot once before turning to John as the tears started to flow. John immediately let go of his anger and picked Harry up. He needed to calm him down before things got out of control. At this point, Sally had her head in her hands and had moved away from Anderson, while Lestrade approached him and quite vocally told him that he was suspended until further notice starting immediately.

Anderson sputtered. "Why? You can't do that!"

They had the whole room's attention by now and it was eerily quiet other than Harry's soft sobs and John's soothing words to him.

Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up. "Anderson, you just verbally assaulted a four year old in public simply because he happens to resemble a dead man, who I might add, was cleared of all charges. When you and Donovan went at it with Sherlock, that was one thing, but I will not allow you to act that way around a child who has done nothing to you! You will apologize to Harry, then you will leave the building, or I will have you escorted out. Do not return to work until you have heard from me."

Anderson glared at Lestrade for a moment in utter disbelief. He then turned to John, who was still holding Harry, although he had managed to calm his sobs down to whimpers and shaky breaths. "Sorry."

He didn't mean his apology and that was clear to everyone in the room. Harry lifted his head up off of John's shoulder and stuck his tongue out at the mean man. Anderson pointed incredulously and looked back at Lestrade who shrugged. "He's four Anderson, not stupid, get over it."

Anderson huffed and turned toward the door. As he passed his co-workers they muttered caustic comments under their breath. "You really are an idiot, Anderson." "Way to make the kid cry!" "Shoulda stopped while you were ahead!" and many others in a similar vein.

Greg walked over to where John was holding Harry. "God, John, Harry, I'm so sorry! I told him not to say anything, I swear. I'm sorry, mate!"

John shifted Harry up a little higher. "Not your fault, Greg. I knew it was a possibility something might be said when we came, but we'd being doing good until then. Right then, Harry, there are two more floors to go, are you ready?"

Harry lifted his head again and looked between John and Lestrade. "I'm not a freak!" He pouted.

"Of course you're not! You're the Doctor! You're a Time Lord!" Greg told him. Harry gave Greg a small smile.

"No more mean Dalek men?" Greg shook his head.

"No more mean Dalek men. I'm going to come with you to make sure of it." Harry looked at John, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. John barked out a laugh which confused Greg.

"He says you can come with us, but you have to be our Amy Pond." Greg facepalmed, but looked up again quickly with a smile on his face.

"Alright, sounds like a deal. Shall we?" They turned and made their way through the rest of the room. Harry finally asked to be let down and after thanking the last person for the candy they placed in his bag, he turned to the two men tailing him.

"Come along Ponds! Geronimo!" He yelled quite loudly causing several chuckles around the room.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Finally the Halloween chapter! I had the idea for this way back (you know last week, at the rate that I do updates) while writing chapters 12 & 13. So I got out my trusty writer's journal and started making my circle graphs with all my ideas. Anderson finally got his back too, even though it was Harry misunderstanding what he said, I think the word freak would definitely be one of Harry's trigger words. Donovan tried, and we'll have to give her credit for that. I don't think she is intrinsically a bad person, but I do think she's got a major chip on her shoulder that she needs to get rid of!_**

**_As for the costumes, I may not have gotten very creative, but I really just wanted to picture John as a Roman Centurion, I mean picture it in your head, then tell me if you can blame me for it! There is also an adorable picture of a little boy dressed as 11 floating around the internets, and it's just soooo stinkin' cute! Somebody gave me the idea about Harry sticking out his tongue at Donovan and Anderson, I think it might have been Kai19, but I can't seem to locate the review, so whoever you are, this one's for you!_**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	22. World Travels

_**November**_

**1 Nov 4:26am 52*30N 13*25E 2D0H0E MI FM**  
_Berlin - 2 dead, 0 hurt, 0 escaped. minor injuries, food & medical supplies_

**8 Nov 2:14pm 55*40N 12*34E 0D0N0E NI C**  
_Copenhagen - did not engage, no injuries, currency (money)_

**18 Nov 5:42pm 59*57N 10*42E 3D2H2E MI SMB**  
_Oslo - 3 dead, 2 hurt, 2 escaped. minor injuries, shelter, medical supplies, bullets_

**30 Nov 1:16am 49*17N 18*3E 6D0H0E MMI SMF**  
_Stockholm - 6 dead, 0 hurt, 0 escaped. major injuries, shelter, medical supplies, food._

**14 Dec 6:04pm 59*56N 30*18E -HP-**  
_St. Petersburg - holding pattern until further notice_


	23. A Very Watson Christmas

John received the most recent of Sherlock's updates while he was on his way to the Yarder's Christmas party. Greg had invited him as his plus one and although John had at first protested, in the end he gave in. There really was no reason for him not to attend other than a lingering awkwardness that he felt around some of those who still held a grudge against Sherlock or still felt that he was a fake and were vocal about it in front of John.

On a few occasions he had gone to the Yard to meet Greg before one of their pub nights. Greg had even called him in for his medical opinion on one case. Donovan had been professional and distant while Anderson had been outright hostile, earning himself another suspension, this one without pay. The rest of the Yarders were either openly friendly or at least professional and several had encouraged John to join them for the night when they overheard Greg's invitation.

Mycroft had invited Harry to spend the weekend with him and Anthea who were going skiing in the Alps. John had never been on that kind of trip, but he couldn't deny Harry the experience. Things had become easier in his relationship with Mycroft once he realized that Mycroft and Anthea were together. (Apparently for a few years now.) She helped smooth out the rough edges and helped melt The Ice Man persona, at least when he was with Harry. So really John had no reason not to attend the party with Greg.

All of this led up to his walking into the ballroom of one of London's older hotels and looking around for Greg while simultaneously being greeted by already-feeling-it revelers. He was handed a drink and given hearty slaps on the back, before eventually being pointed in the direction of Greg who stood against the far wall with his back to John chatting up a woman. Greg's shoulders blocked her from view, but something about her was familiar to him.

John joined them, tapping Greg on the shoulder to get his attention. Greg turned with a grin on his face. "John! You made it, mate. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stand me up!"  
The young lady gasped and looked between them in confusion. John glanced in her direction and then did a double take. "Molly?"

A tremulous smile accompanied the confused expression on her face. "Hi John. I'm sorry I didn't realize you guys were here together. I thought...um...anyway, how have you been?"

She tried to play it off, but it was obvious exactly what Molly thought. "Molly, Greg and I aren't together. We're just mates. He invited me because he couldn't land a real date. I'm good though. No worries."

"Oi! Watch it Watson!" John just smiled at them both. The interest was back in her eyes when she looked at Greg, so John decided it was time to make himself scarce in true wingman fashion.

"I'm gonna go find Dimmock. He challenged me to a game of darts, and since he's already pissed, I'm pretty sure I'll be collecting the ten pounds he put on the game. I'll catch you guys later." He did in fact go in search of Dimmock and also went home with ten pounds in his pocket, but he never caught another glimpse of Molly or Lestrade that evening.

John heard from him later in the week apologizing for leaving him high and dry, but John brushed the apology aside. Greg and Molly were apparently dating now, so he was happy for them both. By the end of their conversation, he asked Greg to join them at Baker Street for Christmas and when he got an affirmative answer, he thought it might be time to let Mrs. Hudson know that this was going to be a little bigger party than he anticipated.

They had decided to go all out for Harry's first real Christmas. Mrs. Hudson was staying here instead of going to her sister's, Mycroft and Anthea would be here for Christmas Eve before leaving for the countryside and Holmes Manor (or whatever they called the monstrosity of a house that John was absolutely bloody sure stood on acres of land and had been in the family for generations) to spend Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Mummy Holmes. He'd had to do some very quick talking to get out of being dragged there along with Harry, but John was sure the only reason Mycroft ceded his wishes to Johns was the rather hard elbow that Anthea had delivered to his ribs.

They were also expecting Greg and now possibly Molly to join them. He had invited Albus, Minerva, and Kingsley, but they had already had plans. Even so, John was quite pleased with how this Christmas was shaping up. Harry was over the moon and had spent so much time placing each ornament perfectly on the tree, that it had taken several hours to finish decorating it. The skull wore a Santa Hat, the headphones on the bison skull had been replaced with reindeer antlers on a headband, and there were garlands draped over the mantle and around the doorways.

He and Mrs. Hudson had been busy making party trays of various appetizers, dips, and sweet treats all day. When his party guests started arriving, he put on christmas carols in the background and allowed himself to enjoy the evening. There were the usual getting to know you, how have you been, conversations at first. Those switched over to did you know this about so and so, and then evolved into funny stories about past escapades and adventures. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and Harry was fascinated by the stories that the others told about John and Sherlock. Mycroft had excused himself at one point, but no one seemed to notice.

Suddenly there were heavy boot steps on the stairs and everyone turned as the door to the flat burst open to reveal...Santa? John looked closer before he started to laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't just Santa, it was Mycroft Holmes dressed as Santa. He wore the traditional red and white suit and carried a red velvet bag over his shoulder that was bulging with presents. The other adults in the room had also put two and two together and the reactions varied from shocked to absolutely gleeful. Greg and Anthea's phones both made sudden appearances and started filming while Harry squirmed out of John's lap and made his way over to the man at the door.

Harry grabbed Santa's hand and pulled him over to the seat Mycroft had abandoned earlier. As he sat and placed the bag beside the chair, he pulled Harry onto his lap. "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas! What a fine group of party goers! Tell me, Harry, have they been naughty or nice this year?"

Harry was wide-eyed but bouncing with excitement. "They've been very nice, Santa!"

A chuckle followed his announcement. "And what about you, Harry? Have you been nice this year as well?"

Harry looked over at John before answering somberly. "Mostly! Sometimes, I get in a strop, Mrs. Hudson says. And there was that one time I yelled at Mr. Anderson, because he was being very mean! But I listen to Papa and I share my toys with 'Mione 'cause she's my best friend. Also I eat all my vegetables except brussel sprouts." He leaned in to whisper. "They're really yucky!"

He looked back at John who gave him a nod and a smile. The other adults chuckled again and there was an "awww!" from Molly's direction.

"Well, it sounds to me like you are a very nice little boy. Would you tell me what you want for Christmas?" Harry got excited one again and was beaming as he listed off the usual wants of a four year at Christmas. He stopped and chewed his lip a little before continuing.

"Santa, can I ask for just one more thing? It's not for me, it's for my Papa." Mycroft glanced at John before looking back down at Harry.

"Of course, Harry. What would you like for your Papa?" Harry waved Mycroft down and leaned up to whisper in his ear for a few moments. Mycroft was nodding, but his gaze was locked on John. Harry finished asking for whatever it was, and Mycroft sat back up.

"Well Harry, that may take sometime. I won't be able to get it here in time for Christmas, but I will do my very best to get that to him as soon as possible." Harry smiled up at him.

"Promise?" Mycroft nodded and held up his pinky which was covered in a black leather glove.

"Pinky Promise! Now, I believe I have some presents here for everyone. Will you help me hand them out Harry?"

They passed out the gifts that were in the sack as well as several that were under the tree or had been brought to exchange with others at the party. Soon there were piles of wrapping paper on the floor, happy smiles on everyone's faces, and thank you's flying around the room. Mycroft had left as Santa but came back as himself and re-joined the festivities. When Harry had asked where he had been, he was given the excuse that work had called, but Harry just squinted his eyes and looked disbelieving for a few moments before being distracted by Anthea. Apparently those observation skills Mycroft had been teaching him were coming back to bite him in the arse.

As the party started to break up, John made it a point to pull Mycroft aside to ask what Harry had requested on his behalf. Mycroft had balked at telling him at first, but eventually gave in. "He asked me to bring Sherlock back so you could stop missing him and would stop having nightmares."

Neither man knew what to say to that, but John got that hitch in his chest again that he had finally identified as parental love.

"I thought the nightmares had stopped, John." He studied John intensely looking for any clue as to what was happening.

"They did for a while, but like the dreams from Afghanistan they come back every now and then without warning. I helped Greg with a case involving a man who seemingly committed suicide by jumping off a building, but was later found out to have been pushed. It triggered all the memories, and even though I know he's alive, I can't wipe those images from my head Mycroft. I can't delete them. God knows I've tried! I had a couple of bad weeks, I woke Harry up more than once."

Mycroft understood. He had seen the video footage of that day and for a few hours he had also believed his baby brother to be dead. The fact that he was still breathing couldn't let you un-see something that had shaken your whole world so completely. Mycroft had only seen it on video and only believed for a few hours, John had been there in person, touched the body, and had lived with all the emotions that brought for almost an entire year. His emotional scars ran much much deeper.

"I will do my best to fulfill my promise to both my brother and to Harry, John. You do know that don't you?" John nodded, took and deep breath and then released it shakily.

"Yeah, I know." John put his arm on Mycroft's shoulder briefly before turning back to his departing guests. Hugs and well wishes were passed around. By the time everyone left, both John and Harry were exhausted and showing it. Greg and Molly would be back the following afternoon for Christmas dinner, there was quite a mess in the sitting room that needed to be cleaned up, but for now, John put both Harry and himself to bed.

Christmas day, they woke early, with Harry once again storming John's bed. They had the traditional Christmas Breakfast that John's Mum had always made, opened gifts with Mrs. Hudson, had lunch with Greg and Molly, followed by board games in the afternoon. That evening the two of them settled in for another Watson tradition. John couldn't remember a single Christmas they hadn't watched the Doctor Who Christmas episode as a family, even when he was in his teens, so he and Harry were back in their pajamas, curled together on the sofa with a blanket, hot chocolate, and fire going in the fireplace five minutes before the special was due to start.

John, thinking on what Mycroft had told him kissed the top of Harry's head and murmured to him, "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry snuggled in to John a little more. "Happy Christmas, Papa."

And it was a very Happy Christmas indeed.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! One last fluffy chapter for you before things start getting interesting! If I told you Sherlock will be back within the next three chapters, would you send me cyber hugs? Well get ready, cause he's coming home! Even with a three hour nap to combat my late night at the ballet, I managed to get three and a half very intense chapters written for you today! _**

**_This chapter is for Fernsfairie who asked ages ago for Mycroft in a Santa suit. As always thank you for your follows/favs/reviews! They really do motivate me to write! _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! _**


	24. World Travels pt II

**15 Jan 4:57 pm 22* 20N 114* 11E 7IC NI -**  
_Hong Kong - 7 in custody, no injuries_

**23 Feb 2:27am 35* 40N 139* 40E 1D NI FB**  
_Tokyo - 1 dead, no injuries, food and bullets_

**7 Mar 7:43 pm 1* 14N 103* 55E -T-**  
_Singapore - traveling through_

**2 Apr 6:21 pm 34* 0S 151* 0E 0D, 2H, 0E, 3IC MI CS**  
_Sydney_-_ 2 hurt, 3 in custody, minor injuries, clothing and shelter_

**26 Apr 1:15 pm 35* 58S 18*22E 4D, 0H, 1E MI SM**  
_Capetown - 4 dead, 1 escaped, minor injuries, shelter and medical supplies_

**8 May 3:06 am 22* 57S 43* 12W 14D, 3H, 3E NI CSF**  
_Rio de Janeiro - 14 dead, 3 hurt, 3 escaped, no injuries, clothing, food, shelter_

**31 May 2:13 am 34* 3N 118* 15W 3D, 2H, 1E MI -HP-**  
_Los Angeles - holding pattern_

**10 Jun 12:27pm 40* 47N 73*58W 14D, 0H,0E NI CP**  
_New York - 14 dead, no injuries, currency, passport_


	25. Holmes Manor and Hitmen

On Mycroft and Anthea's invitation, John and Harry joined them at Dearbourne, the Holmes family seat, for the month of July. Mummy Holmes had relocated to the French countryside to visit with her relations there. They were all relieved to be free of London which had been sweltering in above average temperatures. Harry had plenty of space to run and play outside to his hearts content and they spent many afternoons collecting flowers, bugs, plants, rocks and all the other things little boys deemed important enough to put in their pockets and carry home.

They always had at least one shadow with them, even though the house and surrounding grounds had a security system that was not yet on the market for people who weren't the British Government. For the past three months John had received threatening letters at his home, work, and even at the Yard. More than once, his soldier's senses had told him he was being watched or followed. Mycroft had tightened security on everyone that had regular contact with both John and Harry.

The closer to home that Sherlock got, the more threatening the letters, until the last one had arrived at the end of June with a picture of Harry as seen through a sniper's scope. Mycroft had been diligently teaching Harry how to observe and deduce those around him and he was quite good at it for a four - almost five - year old. He had been the one to catch the sunlight reflecting off the lens of the scope on the building across from the Yard while looking at he view from Greg's office.

They all knew these threats were coming from Colonel Sebastian Moran, he had signed every letter that had been delivered. It had taken quite a bit of digging, his past was buried as deeply as Moriarty's had been, but they had eventually located the original records on him. He was as psychopathic as Moriarty had been given the number of bodies he left in his wake, he was just better at hiding it.

John had known him during his army days, had been taught sniper techniques by the man in fact, had even saved his life from a shrapnel wound to the abdomen. The fact that Harry had been marked as a target was unacceptable to John. He would do everything he could to protect Harry. Albus, Minerva, and Kingsley had all been alerted and had done what they could to put magical protections on the property, but no one was sure if they would be able to stop a bullet. The wise thing would have been to keep Harry inside, but John refused to do so. Snipers could shoot into buildings as easily as they could in the open, especially one of Moran's talents.

John began to practice daily with his gun. Mycroft had converted the former archery range into a shooting range for this use. Both he and Anthea joined John in his daily practice, which surprised him. Mycroft was as bad a shot as his brother, but Anthea, John was relieved to note was almost on the same level as himself. She had also had training in several different types of firearms, including a sniper's rifle. John's respect for her went up with every new facet he learned about her.

They had celebrated John's birthday on the seventh with a small family dinner and movie night and were planning a large party with friends and family in for the weekend for Harry's birthday at the end of July.

The logistics of pulling off a large house party under the threat of a sniper attack seemed a bit crazy to John, but he had been overruled in true Holmes fashion. Mycroft had even called Mummy Holmes, whom John had never met and yet was still somehow intimidated by, even over the phone.  
She had 'pursuaded' him to let them throw Harry his fifth birthday party. Even after dealing with both Sherlock and Mycroft, the fact that Mummy Holmes was able to addle him enough over the phone to change his mind about something meant that she was the scariest Holmes by far.

Aside from dramatic party planning on the part of Anthea and running the government from afar on the part of Mycroft, their month was spent lazily soaking up the sun (when it wasn't raining), exploring the woods, and discovering hidden passages inside the house (which Mycroft assured John was absolutely safe and booby trap free and had even been Sherlock-proofed)

So when Harry couldn't be found for several hours, they assumed he was in the passages. After four hours, the more extensive search was started, and John had to be talked down from the panic attack he was intent on having. Two texts came in simultaniously on John's and Mycroft's phones.

The message on Mycroft's phone was from Sherlock.

**20 Jul 4:36pm 51*32N 0* 5W - London**  
_Hello brother dear, where is my blogger?_

The message on John's phone was from Sebastian Moran.

_Missing someone? Sherlock has forty eight hours to find me before I put a bullet in his sweet little head._

There was a video of Harry attached that showed the boy was dirty but asleep on a small mattress pushed up against a dirty wall. John watched his chest rise and fall before handing the phone over to Mycroft so he could see the message. His panic attack was completely forgotten. He felt a peaceful calm come over him. The buzzing in his ears ceased and all he heard was silence. He was in his 'killing space' as he'd always called it. Ironically enough, it was Moran who had taught him how to get into this head space. Now all that concentration was directed back at him. John pushed aside all emotions and was immediately in soldier mode. An enemy had threatened one of his own and now he would hunt and kill the bastard.

John looked at Mycroft and Anthea and started issuing orders, his Captain's voice taking complete control of everyone in the room. Mycroft's shadows snapped to attention before running off to follow his orders, never questioning if he had the right to issue them in the first place. Anthea's fingers flew over her phone's keypad relaying John's instructions to the rest of the minions in Mycroft's employ. Mycroft forwarded his brother the message from John's phone. Sherlock may not know about Harry or why he was important, but the fact that Mycroft had added the word pirates to the end of the message would give his brother all the information he would need. If vatican cameos was the codeword Sherlock used with John that only the two of them knew the meaning of, pirates was the codeword for the Holmes brothers.

He also gave in to the inevitable and called Mummy. She would find out soon enough anyway that Harry was missing and Sherlock was back, better to get her on board as soon as possible. For all that he and Sherlock were proper geniuses, they had gotten it all from somewhere and that somewhere was Vivienne Rachelle Lisette Archambeau de Orleans, now Vivienne Holmes. It was a truth very widely known that one did not cross Vivienne Holmes. She had stayed out of the whole James Moriarty debacle at their request and allowed Sherlock to handle it his way, but it was now time to end this once and for all.

In the french countryside, in an extravigantly appointed sitting room, Vivienne Holmes took the call from her eldest son. When he apprised her of the situation and had rung off, Mummy Holmes began to plot and plan. She would be on her way home in a less than an hour and then she was going to get very inventive in all the ways she would make Sebastian Moran beg her forgiveness for daring to threaten her family. A small smile appeared on her still gorgeous face. Oh yes, this was going to be quite lovely!

* * *

_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! A small cliff hanger for you! Harry's been taken by Sebastian, Mummy Holmes is a scary BAMF for reasons you'll find out later, and John is a little bit dark. If you haven't noticed, I did kick the rating up from K to T, just to be safe. Things will get shippy, but nothing explicit, and it won't be the main focus of the story. So if that's not your thing, you can probably read it as epic platonic bromance, or you can bail out now, but I'll ship it till it sinks! **_

_**Also, I didn't take French as a foreign language, and only did a small amount of research on Mummy's name, so if I've got it completely wrong, I apologize for my ignorance! **_

_**Until next time (maybe later today?), gentle viewers, enjoy!**_


	26. Coming Home

48 hours

Sherlock Holmes was exhausted. After eighteen months, he was finally back in England, back in his beloved London, and Baker Street was in sight. There were times in the last months that he was not sure whether he would ever see this sight again. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to see his blogger's face, to let him punch him (he'd calculated this at a 90% probabability, though John did always manage to surprise him) and then to sit with him and have tea even if only for a few moments, so the could once again revel in the feeling of being home.

Shaking his head at himself he tried to get his brain to focus. Sentiment. He had been plagued by it more and more often. The longer he had been away from home, the worse it had gotten. He had noticed that when he was tired or ill, he could not seem to contain it.

He approached 221 from the rear of the house. If Moran had eyes on the house, they were most likely in the front, still he proceeded with caution. When he approached the house he looked into Mrs. Hudson's windows first. There was no movement in the flat, and after glancing around for only a few seconds, he noted the fine layer of dust that covered most of the flat surfaces. Gone less than a month, then. Ah, July, the month she usually spends with her sister. Leaving the window, he moved onto fire escape which had been replaced sometime in the year and a half he had been gone. He wandered why, but quickly put it in a file to analyze later. He finally came to the window that looked into his bedroom. He tried to pry the window open, but nothing he could do would make it budge. He had specifically tampered with this window so it would be easy to open from the outside! He looked into the room and noted that it was neat, but had the same film of dust covering its contents as Mrs. Hudson's flat had.

Where was John? Surely he didn't go with Mrs. Hudson to her sisters? No. Staying with friends? Unlikely. Wait, it was July. Mycroft. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text. Mummy would be at the French Chataeu, so Mycroft and Anthea would move to Dearbourne for the month. It was possible that John was with them. His text was returned with minutes, but it was not the answer that he was expecting. A threat accompanied by a picture of a small boy and the word pirates. This was more than a bit not good. He went back to trying to get into the flat, even tried to pick the lock on Mrs. Hudson's door to no avail. His phone interrupted his breaking and entering with another text from his brother.

Go to Molly. You must not be seen.

He followed his brothers direction without question. As much as it chaffed him, at the moment Mycroft knew more about the situation than he did. Who was the boy and why was he so important that Mycroft would invoke the code? He hadn't even gone that far when Moriarty had revealed his threats agains Sherlock. Still as he made his way through the London back streets and alleyways to St. Barts morgue, he couldn't help but wander what made this boy so special to his brother?

He entered the morgue through the underground entrance where the coroner and funeral homes delivered or removed bodies. Though this part of the hospital was rarely populated, he stuck to the shadows and moved as quietly as possible until he entered the morgue. Molly was examining the upper intestine of the body on her table while speaking notes about her findings into her recorder. She hadn't heard him enter, so he simply observed her from the doorway.

She looked more put together than she had. Her clothes were the current fashion, if still mass market rather than designer, her makeup now suited her face and enhanced rather than retracted. She seemed to stand and work with a more confident air. Steady boyfriend, new more fashionable female friend as well, a close group that has worked to build up her confidence. She finally believed she was as important as he had told her she was. Good.

He moved forward, making sure to let his shoes sound on the tile flooring. She turned from what she was doing. A beaming smile and then a finger indicating that he let her finish. She recorded the last of her findings before turning off the recorder and stripping off her gloves. To his surprise, she launched herself at him and caught him in a hug before he could protest. His only available options to either catch her around the waist or let her body weight drag them both down. That pesky sentiment reared its head once again and he caught her and held her to him, squeezing just a bit in return.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall and quickly put her down, but Molly didn't seem concerned at all. "That'll be Greg. Mycroft texted us."

Sure enough, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade pushed open the door within moments and entered the morgue. He stopped short at the sight of Sherlock, or maybe the fact that Molly was in his arms, before moving forward. Molly stepped back and it was as if the two were in perfect synchronicity. Greg's fist landed on one of those razor sharp cheekbones and while Sherlock didn't go down completely he was spun off balance and ended facing the opposite direction he started in.

As he turned back to his two colleagues, they both smiled. Greg was the steady boyfriend then. Greg came toward him again, and while Sherlock flinched, he made no move to prevent whatever was coming. Greg pulled him down into a hug. "You are the biggest prat that ever walked the earth! But we are happy to have you back."

Sherlock pulled out of the embrace. One eyebrow went up and he gestured to his quickly bruising face. "This is you happy to have me back? Your social skills seem to have deteriorated in my absence, Lestrade. Obviously a result of far too much time spent in Anderson's presence. Perhaps John's, considering the more physical reaction."

Molly giggled a bit as she moved to get him a cold pack and Lestrade looked way too proud of himself. "You deserved that and more you wanker!"

Greg's phone beeped. John was wanting a status update. Greg texted back and then turned to Sherlock. "John is mobilizing Mycroft's forces into extraction teams. We know this is Moran, we just have to find him, that is going to be your job. John's will be to get Harry out safely. I'm also supposed to let you know that Mummy Holmes will be wheels down in England in less than three hours."

Sherlock's heart studdered momentarily. Mummy was getting involved. He almost felt sorry for Sebastian Moran. "Tell me what we know so far."

As Greg gave him a rundown of the past few months, the threats, the past month at the country house, Harry disapearing from the house, everything they had on Moran and his past, Sherlock paced processing each peice of information he was given and filing it in his mind where it helped to fill in the puzzle. Long after Greg had given him all the information they had, he continued to pace. He was slotting in the new information he had recieved along with the information he already held on Sebastian Moran.

Eventually he pulled up the attached picture and studied it intently. No natural light, underground then. Concrete walls and support beams, the lower levels of a tall building, drain in the ground barely visible at the edge of the picture, there for several possible reasons. He studied the boy, sedated, likely to remain asleep for quite some time. Thin mattress, easily found.

Sherlock gave up on the picture. There were too many possiblities. He began going through his mind palace, searching each room for more information. Greg and Molly stayed with him. They brought him food, which to their surprise he ate while thinking, something he had learned was a necessity while being away. He also drank the coffee that was brought in at some point. Greg kept him updated on John's and Mummy's progress and while he absorbed and filed the information, he remained silent.

His thoughts buzzed in his head. He contemplated and disgarded ideas and locations quickly. Looked at the situation from every possible angle. Finally hours later, answers started to click into place, like pieces of a puzzle fit together. He stopped his pacing, which caused Molly to prod Lestrade who had been napping on one of the exam tables. They both looked at him expectantly.  
"I know where he is."

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I had a very productive writing day so you are getting your Sherlock chapter early. I did promise he would be back within three chapters, so here he is! I'm currently writing five chapters ahead of this one so there may be another update later on. (No promises) Thank you for all the wonderful reviews you've left for the last chapter! Keep in mind, Sherlock may seem a little OOC in the next few chapters, but when you've been away from home as long as he has, you tend to get a little sentimental, so bear with us while he gets his head on straight!_**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	27. Battle Stratagems

A/N: So I realized after posting the previous chapter, that I am a bad person! Kai19 was gracious enough to beta the chapter for me and add a few lines of dialog for Sherlock, and I didn't give them any credit in the author's note! Please don't hate me! I was just sooooo excited to get it posted!

* * *

21 Hours Remaining

In a well appointed, but confortable townhouse across London, John Watson unknowingly mirrored Sherlock Holmes. he paced the sitting room they had set up as command central. He barked orders to questions he was asked, and kept everyone focused. He ate and drank whatever he was handed, though he couldn't tell you what any of it was. He had not once left the headspace he had sunk into upon learning that Moran had Harry.

When he had been introduced to Mummy Holmes, she had taken one look into his eyes, kissed him on the cheek, and let him be, while simultaniously terrorizing Mycroft and his staff. Kingsley had been called in by Mycroft and he stood sentinel in the room. If Sherlock could not find Harry, he would cast a locating spell for him, but only as a last resort. It was understood by all that using it would only bring more trouble on their heads. Magical trouble was not something any of them were prepared to deal with at the moment.

He managed to catch a few hours of sleep while leaning against the wall of the room when Mummy Holmes insisted on taking over the running of operations for a few hours. he handed controlover to her without a second thought and before she could send him up to one of the guest beds, he was asleep standing up. She could admire the efficiency in that, so she left him where he was. He was awoken a few hours later by the alert going off on Anthea's phone.

"Sherlock knows where he is. He wants us to meet him there in one hour." John snorted. He knew Sherlock better than to trust that he would wait for them to mobilize.

"He's planning to go in alone. I'll meet him there now, send the location ASAP, but wait for my order to enter." Anthea, having anticipated this reaction handed him an earbud which he put in while she secured the microphone to his jacket sleeve. He watched avidly as Mummy Holmes pulled his browning from a hard plastic carrying case and checked it before handing it to him piece by piece so he could assemble it himelf. The woman was frightening and awe inspiring all the same time. When he was ready, she was the one he looked to. She approached him and laid a hand on his cheek.

"If you can, leave him alive for me John. I want to break him." John repressed a shudder, but vowed to do his best to try not to kill Moran. He had no doubt that handing him over to Mummy would be a far greater revenge than simply killing him would.

He departed, with Mycroft's assurances that there were already operative in the area awaiting John and his orders. He was notified when Sherlock arrived at the building, only minutes ahead of him. John would forgive Sherlock almost anything, but if his impulsiveness ended with Harry hurt or worse, he would not be able to forgive him that.

He arrived at the abandoned office building on foot, having had the driver drop him off a few blocks away so as not to draw attention. The door Sherlock had entered was still open enough that John could get his fingers in the crack and pull it open enough to squeeze through. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness and using the light from the exit signs over the door, he made his way into the corridor, moving silently the way he had been taught.

He followed the directions being relayed into his ear by Mummy, catching Sherlock's shadow a few times along his path. He fell back on those occasions to allow the space between them to widen, until he deemed it safe to continue following without being discovered himself. The corridor eventually ended, opening out into a large room with several doors that opened off of it. He watched Sherlock move silently, looking into each room through the small square of glass in the door. When he looked into the fourth room, he could see the boy still laying on the thin mattress. As he reached for the knob, a door further down that he had not yet checked opened. A gun preceeded the man as he exited into the larger room.

Sebastian Moran was tall and powerfully built. "Mr. Holmes, how nice of you to join us. And in record time too! I do apologize that I could not set you a more complicated puzzle, but that was really more of Jim's thing than mine."

Sherlock turned to the man who had a gun trained on him. "Do give yourself more credit Mr. Moran, I've been trying to catch you for eighteen months after all. Though I will admit I got a bit distracted here and there."

Moran dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the compliment he had been paid. "Still, playtime is over."

He tossed a pair of metal cuffs to Sherlock. "Wrap your arms around the central column and then secure them with the cuffs." He turned to the opening of the hallway.

"Captain Watson, why don't you join us as well?" Damn, John didn't think he could be seen. He engaged the emergency alert device Anthea had placed in his pants pocket with a tap of his fingers. The Alpha and Bravo teams would be here in a matter of minutes. He pulled his browning aiming toward Moran and moved out of the corridor never taking his eyes from Him.

Sherlock took in John like a man starved for water. He was completely immobile with his arms secured around the column. John did not once look his way, which perturbed Sherlock a bit, but he pushed aside the feeling.

"No greeting for me Captain?" John stayed where he was but arched an eyebrow at Moran.

"You kidnapped my child Colonel, what exactly do you expect me to say?' Moran had the gall to laugh.

"Come now, Captain you know that is not true." Sherlock was completely confused, which was not soemthing he was used to feeling. John face held no expression that Sherlock could read.

"I neither kiddnapped the boy, nor is he your child. He walked straight into my arms like a gift, so really there was no kidnapping involved. We also both know he's your cousin and not your child. You do remember, Captain, how I hate being lied to don't you?"

John did not answer, but his finger tightened on the trigger of the browning. Between one breath and the next, Moran fired at Sherlock.

Only seconds after Moran had fired, John fired as well, hitting Moran in the shoulder. No one in the room saw the second door open, or saw the small boy who stood in the doorway. Moran laughed again, aiming for John this time. Before either one could fire their weapon, the Alpha team stormed into the room behind John and they all heard Harry scream "No!" before they were hit with a burst of energy that flung them back like ragdolls.


	28. Toy Soldiers

**_A/N: The Johnlock ship is pulling into port in this chapter. If that's not your thing, now is the time to bail out. _**

* * *

As the dirt and debris rained down on the room there were only three people on their feet. John still had his gun pointed in the direction Moran had stood in only seconds before. The man was now slumped down next to the wall, roughly seven meters back from where he had stood, gun halfway between John and his body. Sherlock was still secured to the column, shouting John's name in panic, desperately trying to see through the dust that was still floating in the air. Harry stood in the doorway looking for his Papa. The medication he had been given was making him nausous, and his vision was swimming with black spots. When he finally saw his Papa, he ran over to him and threw himself into his arms.

The Bravo team led by Mummy and Anthea entered the room stepping over their unconscious colleagues. They had everything under control within minutes. Moran was secured immediately. Sherlock was released from the cuffs and checked over despite his protests. Most of alpha team was beginning to stir and sit up. John held Harry, one arm under his bum to support the weight, the other still holding his gun, wrapped around his back. Harry, who was doing a very good impression of an octopus had his arms around John's neck, his legs around his waist and was sobbing into his shoulder.

Johns brain was finally registering that it had not been a bomb that had cleared the room, but Harry's magic. An incredibly powerful burst of magic. His mind started planning as Mummy walked toward him. "We need to move Harry, quickly. That much magic is going to be noticed. He cannot be found here."

Mummy nodded and relayed the location of one of their vans. She had planned for this eventuality, though she hadn't thought she would really need to execute that plan. Leaving Anthea in charge, she escorted John and Harry out of the room and back into the corridor. They took a different route than John had when coming in and exited at the back of the building and into an already idling blacked out van.

John climbed into the back with Harry, who had begun to calm down, but was now shaking and clammy to John's touch. As Mummy climbed into the passenger's seat and pulled away from the scene, John began to check Harry over for injuries. He found three seperate injection sites on Harry's arm from where he had been given a sedative. Still hearing the chatter from the scene, John ordered a search for any kind of medication and to relay back findings as soon as possible.

Now firmly in doctor mode, he did his best to comfort Harry until they could get back to Mycroft's town home and try to counteract whatever he had been dosed with. He made it a point not to think about seeing Sherlock cuffed to the support pillar and completely vulnerable except for his wit and sharp tongue.

He did allow himself to think about his interaction with Moran. The man had changed drastically since John had last seen him. Gone was the calm controlled facade he had always displayed while John had known him in Afghanistan. His mind had obviously broken at some point, though that just made him more dangerous. He had seen desperation and vengence when he'd looked Moran in the eye. John had to wonder what had pushed him there.

Hours later, back at Mycroft's townhome, John lay on one of the guest beds with Harry curled up next to him, hands fisted in his jumper, even in sleep. He had been violently ill from the sedative Moran had given him and that combined with the events of the last two days, had him unwilling to let John out of his sight.

John and Sherlock had not yet had a moment to say hello. They had been seperated at the office building, when John had needed to get Harry to safety. He knew Sherlock was in the house somewhere, he had been informed of the fact by Mummy when she had brought up crackers and ginger ale in an atttempt to help settle Harry's stomach. Still, he was unwilling to leave Harry here alone. Eventually John drifted, not quite asleep but not really awake either.

He was, however, immediately alert when the bedroom door opened quite a bit later. Sherlock entered the room and approached the bed. Asking permission with his eyes, he gently climbed onto the bed until Harry's back was flush with his chest. He laid his arm over the child and reached out to take John's hand, lacing their fingers together. They finally had the chance to study the changes that the past year and a half had wrought in the other.

Sherlock was not as thin as he had been, though that is not to say he wasn't still lean. He had a new scar above his right eye just at the hairline, still pink in it's healing. His face had become more harsh somehow, the lines in his forehead a bit more defined than they had once been. His left cheekbone sported a large still darkening bruise. His lips were severely chapped and John could tell that his nose had been broken at least once in his absence. The hand that held his was rough with callouses that were not from playing a violin and there were still healing scabs over the knuckles. He was in a set of silk pajamas, that John knew didn't belong to him, but struck John as being very Mycroft.

The biggest change John could immediately see was when he looked into Sherock's ever changing blue-grey-green eyes. For the first time he was allowing John to read his thoughts and emotions through his gaze. He was hiding nothing and holding nothing back. It occurred to John that this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen him. They had a whole conversation without saying a single word to each other.

I'm sorry, for everything.

I know.

I did it for you. I couldn't stand the thought of you not being a part of this world.

I thought the same of you, but somehow I managed.

You're angry.

Of course I am you idiot! You went in without backup, even though an innocent's life was at stake.

Oh! You're not mad about me faking my death, you're mad that I put myself and Harry in danger?

Give the man an award, he gets it! I'm mad about the death faking too, just so you know.

Sarcasam does not become you, John.

Yeah, okay. Are you back for good? No more traveling? No more madmen?

Is there room for me still? It didn't escape my notice that he had your undivided attention tonight.

Of course there is room for you, you berk. The space has just tranformed a bit from what it used to be.

What are you saying?

He is my first priority now and that will not change, but I want you here. We want you to be here.

For how long?

Always. You never get to leave again.

Yes, please. My dear John. I was lost without you.

I missed you too, Sherlock.

As one they moved into each other as much as possible, given the small child in between them, until their foreheads touched. The breathed each other in, taking comfort from the proximity, the smell of home radiating from the other, until they fell into the sleep of the exhausted but content.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I must say I'm sorry (but I'm not) for leaving you with that cliffhanger! After Kai19 looked over this chapter and started asking questions and pointing things out, I decided to do a little revising. Unfortunately, unlike most of the workforce here in the States who were off today in observance of Memorial Day, I had to work, so I'm only just getting that completed. Your response to the last chapter was overwhelming! I'll try to respond to the reviews you've left as soon as I can. Thank you so much for all your wonderful encouragement and praise! _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	29. Fascination

Harry woke first the next morning. He looked up into his Papa's face, checking once more that he was there and safe, before realizing that there was someone on the bed behind him. A long fingered hand held his Papa's, the arm it was attached to resting on his hip. He slowly turned over to face this man that he had only heard of in the stories his Papa and Aunts and Uncles had told him. He studied the man before him the way Uncle Mycroft had taught him. Start with one point and work your way out. Once done with his observation, he compared this man in front of him to the one in the few pictures he had seen.

Feeling that he was being watched, Sherlock opened his eyes, expecting John to be awake. Staring back at him though, weren't blue, but were perhaps the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that were much too old to belong in such a young face. He didn't say anything to the boy, not that he really knew what would be appropriate anyway, but studied him as he had felt himself being studied.

The unruly dark hair, just a bit too long and reminiscent of his own, almost hid the strange lightening shaped scar near the hairline. His face was round, but Sherlock could already detect the strong jawline he would have after he matured. The boy was as small as he had been as a child, though he could see signs of previous neglect and abuse, which Sherlock had thankfully never suffered. There were small scars here and there all over the boy, as well as old burn scars on his hands and wrists. He was healthy now, under John's care, that much was easily seen, even after his drug enduced illness of the night before.

The most curious thing to Sherlock though, was that he could not read this small child half as well as he could read most adults he came across. To the contrary of what most peope would assume, Sherlock loved children. Most had not yet been taught the narrowmindedness that plagued so many adults. They still used their brains, which were like sponges, soaking up anything and everything they could.

Sherlock could see that Harry had as many, if not more, emotional walls as he himself had. It had taken Sherlock years to build up that level of protection for himself. It was disconcerting to see it in one so young. He could tell there was something else, something infinitely special about the child, but for all his genius he could not figure out what it was. After minutes of taking each other in, Harry finally broke the silence.

"You got hit in the head with a metal pipe. Your nose was broken twice. You have several cracked ribs that are still healing, and a stab wound that got infected. You are happy to be home but scared too. You missed my Papa a lot. You shouldn't have left him. That was a bit not good."

Harry had spoken softly but confidently. Sherlock was rendered speechless, the reply that had already been forming on his tongue, evaporated in a puff of smoke. His mind began to race through all the possiblities. This small child with eyes too old had not only just deduced his injuries, but he had seen past those emotional walls in only a few minutes. No one had ever seen him that completely before, not even Mummy. He had never allowed it.

"Fascinating." Sherock whispered.

He once again studied the boy in front of him. "Did I get everything right?"

Sherlock tried not to smile, that was usually his line. "You did."

Harry beamed. "I usually forget something." He asked for the eyeglasses on the bedside table and Sherlock handed them over.

"Come on, Sh'lock. Papa will sleep for a bit longer. Mimi Holmes said cook would make me cinnamon rolls as big as a plate if my tummy felt better this morning!" Sherlock's smile could no longer be held back. Mimi Holmes?

Then he registered the rest of what Harry had said. He remembered cook's cinnamon rolls, though it had been several years since he'd had one. They really were the size of a plate, though it was a small one. They were also buttery, flaky, and gooey all at once. His stomach let out a growl, causing Harry to giggle.

He gently rolled out of the bed, trying not to jostle it too much and wake up John. Harry followed his example, though Sherlock had to help him to the floor because of the bed's height. Harry wrapped his small hand around two of Sherlock's long fingers and pulled him to the door and down the stairs. Harry apparently knew his way around the townhouse as he unerringly pulled Sherlock into the kitchen within minutes of leaving the bedroom.

Mrs. Yates, who had once been the cook at Dearbourne, but had moved to Mycroft's to be closer to her grandchildren, grinned at Harry and Sherlock from where she was kneading the dough for the cinnamon rolls at the counter. "Mr. Harry, Mr. Sherlock, good morning! There is a batch in the oven that will be ready in a few minutes. Coffee is ready as well. Milk or juice for you Harry?"

Sherlock helped Harry get the milk he had decided on before fixing himself a coffee. Mrs. Yates sent them into the dining room with a promise to be only a few minutes with their cinnamon rolls. Sherlock could hear a few stirrings coming from upstairs, but no one had yet appeared. Harry used this time to fill Sherlock in on all that he had missed since Harry had come to live with John. Harry told him of the Durseley's and then living with John the first few months. Then he talked about Nana Hudson and Hermione, Uncle Mycroft and Aunt Anthea, Uncle Greg and Aunt Molly. Harry told him about the giraffes at the zoo, but left out the part about the elephants. When he told him about Dalek Anderson at Halloween, Sherlock nearly fell out of his chair laughing, not even caring that his still sore ribs were protesting. He was just finishing telling Sherlock about Mycroft playing Santa at Christmas, though none of the adults thought he knew, when Greg walked into the room, quickly followed by Mycroft himself and then Mummy.

John awoke in the bed alone when he heard Sherlock's laughter drifting up the stairs. He rolled onto his back and let his mind drift back to the evening before. Moran had known he was in the hallway though John was sure he could not be seen from the room. CCTV cameras? Probably. The monitors must have been in the room he stepped out of. He'd need to get debriefed as soon as possible. After setting the emergency beacon and pulling his gun, John made it a point not to look at Sherlock as he entered the room. He'd had only one goal in mind and that had been to get Harry out safely.

While Moran had tried to get into his head, John had simply waited for an opening. When Moran reminded him of how he disliked being lied to, John knew his chance would come within moments. He recalled the 'punishment' Moran had given his soldiers back in Afghanistan. It had bordered on abuse but because it was done in the training ring, in hand to hand, no one was able to prove anything. John had patched up several soldiers after their discipline lessons with Moran.

He couldn't figure out though, why Moran had missed hitting Sherlock with that bullet. He never missed unless he meant to. When John saw his finger squeezing the trigger, he knew this might be the only opening he would get, so he had fired, keeping in mind Mummy's request to leave Moran alive. He aimed for and hit the right side of his chest, milimenters below the clavicle. The wound should have disabled the arm as it was nearly identical to the one John had recieved, even accounting for the smaller round used, but Moran had lifted the arm again just before Harry had sent out that shockwave of magic.

John had gone over it in his head last night while he held Harry, but he turned it over in his mind once again. He couldn't figure out how he had still been on his feet when the dust cleared. The burst had obviously not been a controlled reaction. Sherlock was standing because he had the pillar supporting him, Harry because the magic had originated from his little body. Everyone else in the room and even those in the corridor had been thrown at least five feet into the air, most landing when they hit a wall or another body. Luckily all weapons had been jammed by the surge, so no one's gun had gone off accidentally. His browning had been affected, but John had not. He had simply felt a wave of electricity, similar to the shock you got from rubbing stocking feet on the carpet, rush over his body, raising hairs and leaving goosebumps.

John remembered Minerva telling him that small amounts of magic by minors, especially ones as young as Harry, could not be detected by the Ministry. The surge last night was definitely not a small amount of magic, so John had removed Harry from the area as soon as possible. The fact that Harry was legitimately ill had helped his cover. He'd need to contact Kingsley to let him know what had happened, if he didn't know already.

Several voices were now drifting up the stairs, so John pulled himself out of bed and went down stairs to join the group. He was the last to arrive in the dining room and the only open seat was the one to Sherlock's right. He sat there after getting himself a cup of tea. Mrs. Yates brought in a tray full of the largest cinnamon rolls John had ever seen and they were greedily snatched up and deposited onto plates. There were several conversations happening at once around the full table so John stayed quiet and listened to those around him. His hand rested on the table next to his plate and when he felt Sherlock cover it with his own, he turned to look at him. They had another of those silent conversations in their heads.

John, are you alright?

Everything's fine, just worrying.

About Harry?

Among other things.

He's facinating John and smart and observant. He deduced me perfectly in under five minutes. How is that possible?

He's more special than you know, Sherlock. But he also has the ability to see all the emotions that you don't always allow yourself to notice. I think it makes him a better observer.

Agreed. We'll talk later?

Yes.

They looked away from their conversation to see that everyone in the room had been watching it happen. There were varying degrees of reaction, but Greg summed it up best when he blurted out his thoughts. "Blimey, it's about time you two!"

John cleared his throat and blushed, Sherlock looked smug and simply laced his fingers through John's and refused to let him go. They hadn't actually had that talk yet, but they both knew it would happen soon. It was obvious to everyone present that the dynamic had changed.

There was a tapping on the window and John looked up to see Hedwig with letter in her beak. He felt a small rush of panic go through him, but reigned himself in quickly. Harry jumped up and opened the window to let her in and she flew around the table rather than over it, much to Mrs. Yates' relief. She landed on John's good shoulder and after he took the letter from her, she nibbled at his ear a bit. "Sorry Hedwig, I don't have any treats with me, but go with Mrs. Yates and she'll get you some fresh meat."

Hedwig flew over to the arm Mrs. Yates held out and the cook carried the owl into the kitchen talking to her the whole time. Sherlock was dumbstruck and everyone noticed. There were small giggles up and down the table at the look on his face. "Did you know, brother dear, that with your mouth open like that, your lips form a heart shape?"

Mycroft had a smug look on his face as Sherlock snapped his mouth closed. He glared at Mycroft for a moment before looking at John. "John, why did an owl just deliver the post?'

John looked up from the letter he had opened. "Remember how I told you Harry was more special than you knew? This is part of it. I'll explain later."

He turned back to the letter and finished reading it before passing it to Mycroft. As Mycroft read the letter, Sherlock studied them both. There was something going on and everyone but him knew about it. He didn't like the feeling. He opened his mouth once more, but caught the look Mummy was sending him, telling him to leave it for the moment. Myroft finished the letter and passed it back to John after folding it back into it's original shape.

"John and I have decided to return to Dearbourne later today. We still have Harry's party to get ready for and I did promise them an entire month in the country. Greg, Molly, I understand that you can't join us until next weekend due to your work schedules. There will be a car waiting to bring you to the manor when you are ready to join us. Let John know of the time and location that will work best for you. The rest of us will leave after luncheon."

He left the room after his announcement, Anthea on his heels to make plans to move house for the second time in three days. Harry finished his cinnamon roll and left with Mummy to go get dressed for the day. Molly and Lestrade made their excuses and left to enjoy what was left of their weekend.  
John and Sherlock were left alone, hands still linked, in the silent dining room. By mutual consent, they stood and made their way back into the room they had shared last night. John had a lot of information to cover in a short amount of time and Sherlock had some very big decisions to make.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I think this may be the longest I've gone without posting a new chapter! I'm sorry to say that I was down with a migraine yesterday, so I apologize for the wait. Please let me know what you think of this chapter!_**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	30. Secrets

**_A/N: Please read the author's notes at the bottom before you castigate me for this chapter! Thanks!_**

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Sherlock shut the door behind them as he followed John into the bedroom. he had not completely regained his equilibrium and the situation just seemed to get more complicated. He knew that whatever John had to tell him and whatever they decided during this conversation would not only change his life, but would also map out their future. They settled on the bed, backs against the antique headboard, with pillows for comfort and cushioning behind them. Sherlock had taken John's hand again, needing the physical contact.

"How much have you been told about Harry?" John was sure Greg had told him at least a little, as well as whatever Mummy and Mycroft had told him last night during their debriefing.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I know that he is your ward. A cousin that you took in almost a year ago. He is important enough to Mycroft for him to invoke the emergency code we have. Even Mummy seemed to be very protective of him. Moran knew he was important enough that we would try to find him. I deduced this morning that he had been abused and neglected prior to living with you. Other than the events of the past year that he filled me in on this morning, that is it."

"Right, okay. Harry is very special. Before I can tell you any more than that, I need to know if you will marry me?" Sherlock was more confused than ever by the change in topic. He stayed silent prompting John to start babbling nervously.

"I know it's abrupt. But it does have to do with Harry. You just got back and now I'm hitting you with this. It doesn't mean we have to have a typical relationship, we could go on like before. Unless you wanted a relationship, but we'd need to talk about that. Anyway, I can't really tell you anything until you answer that question." He stopped and looked over at Sherlock.

He could see Sherlock was thinking, probably somewhere in his mind palace, so John turned to face him fully. "Sherlock. Sherlock!" He called his name loudly, until those changeable eyes met his.

"I meant what I said, you never get to leave again. I will never leave you either. So if you say yes, do it because you want that, not because you want to know about Harry. It doesn't have to happen right away, but you do have to completely believe in your answer." Sherlock searched his face until he found whatever it was he was looking for.

"Yes."

John smiled, and felt the barrier break that had held back his answers about Harry. "Alright then. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound completely unbelievable to your scientific brain, but let me finish before you start scoffing."

Sherlock nodded at him to continue. "Harry is a wizard. There is a whole society of them that live side by side with the non-magical world. You are either born with the ability or your aren't. My cousin, Harry's mum, was a witch. They have a school that they attend for training and that is where Lily met Harry's father, James. They got married after leaving school and had Harry. But there was a dark wizard who had come into power. He targeted Harry and both James and Lily died protecting him. Harry, at eighteen months old, defeated the wizard."

John stopped for a breath. Sherlock was still listening. "The scar. It's shaped like lightning. Too defined to be an accident."

John nodded. "That is apparently where the wizards wand touched Harry when he tried to deliver the killing curse, as they call it. Only the curse backfired on the wizard. No one has located him, but most still believe he is alive somewhere."

"This is when he was sent to live with the Dursleys?" John nodded again.

"There was apparently a spell that transferred from Lily to him when she gave her life for her child. It protects him in many ways, but only works if he lives in the home of a blood relative. James had no family left, Harriet was already in the bottle, and I was deployed at the time, so Petunia was the only available option."

Sherlock listened as John explained things. He filed what he thought he might need in his mind palace for later examination. It didn't even strike him to not believe what John was telling him, simply because it was John, no matter how impossible it all sounded.

"The bomb last night, it wasn't actually a bomb was it?" John shook his head.

"That is what Mummy wants everyone think, she even planted a defective bomb on site, but that was Harry. He sent out a wave of very powerful magic, more than I thought him capable of actually. He doesn't have any control over his magic yet, it mostly comes out when his emotions are very high and it has never been anything that powerful. His best friend Hermione, though, she has already learned to control hers to some extent."

Sherlock glanced at him. "His best friend is a witch?"

John smiled. "Happy coincidence. She is what is called muggle born, her parents are non-magical, and they just happen to attend the same day school. She had a hard time making friends, so Harry made it a point to play with her. Now they are almost inseparable."

John remained silent allowing Sherlock to shift this new information around in his mind palace. He was impressed that Sherlock wasn't scoffing at the idea of magic. Maybe the past eighteen months had taught him to accept that sometimes things just were.

"The wave of magic Harry sent out is why you left so quickly last night. It is also the reason we are going back to Dearbourne today?" John sighed.

"Of course. The wizard that Harry defeated still has devoted followers that would love to get their hands on him. Magic as strong as what he used last night would have alerted the magical government, called the Ministry of Magic. They sent their agents to investigate. Luckily one of them already knows about Harry, the situation we found ourselves in, and what happened, so he was able to intervene and turn their attention elsewhere. No one saw Harry and the magic can't be traced back to him because it wasn't a location he normally inhabits. Moving back to Dearbourne is just a precautionary measure. We can always claim we've been there the whole time."

"Mmm. I see. What is the reason for our pending nuptials then?" John pulled out the letter from Minerva and handed it over to Sherlock. Sherlock opened the letter and read it quickly.

_John,_

_We are so very relieved that you managed to find Harry and that you both came out of the ordeal relatively unscathed. Do not worry about his use of magic being traced back to him, Kingsley is already diverting attention away from the situation. However, you may want to remove yourself from London as soon as you can, simply to put some distance between yourselves and the situation._

_Kingsley informed us that your Sherlock had returned. Albus has asked me to remind you of the conditions put in place for this eventuality. You will not be able to share any information about Harry with him unless he meets the conditions. I have also been asked to remind you of your talk with Dumbledore on the subject of relationships. I do not know what was said, but was told that you would understand._

_Please let us know how you and Harry are getting along once you are safely back at Dearbourne. We will be 'popping' in for Harry's party and wish to meet your young man then. Best of luck to you all._

_Yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Sherlock reread the letter, then studied the paper it was written on. "This is proper parchment! Written with a quill pen!"

John rolled his eyes. "Bloody expensive is what it is."

Sherlock regained his focus. "The conditions mentioned in this letter, what were they?"

"They are the same conditions that apply to every witch or wizard who is in a relationship with a muggle. The Statute of Secrecy prevents a magical person from sharing their secret with a non-magical person unless the couple is engaged to be married and actually plan to marry. Until then, you are literally bound to secrecy. I have special consideration because of Harry's status, but I am also officially listed as a magical person in their census. It took Dumbledore and Kingsley months to achieve that feat without anyone else noticing. I even had to take my OWLS and NEWTS! I'll explain those later."

"How did Mycroft and Anthea, as well as Mummy get around that?" John smiled.

"Mycroft and Anthea know because of the minor positions they hold in the government. They have worked with Kingsley for years. As for Mummy, you would probably know the answer to that question better than I do." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Mummy used to be a spy for MI-6. She was one of their double oh agents, not allowed to tell you which one though. She still carries RED status. Retired, extremely dangerous." He tossed out the information nonchalantly, as if he thought John should have already figured it out.

John put his face in his hands. "Oh dear God. Harry's Mimi is Jane Bond!"

They dissolved into giggles. "Don't let Mummy hear you say that! She despises James Bond."

When they were finally able to gather their senses, Sherlock became serious rather quickly.  
"This McGonagall mentioned a talk about relationships. Will you tell me?"

"Dumbledore explained to me that a relationship is about the two people in it, not the sex of the two people involved. He said that I could love you without it meaning I was suddenly gay. Because, well its just you, not any other guy. It helped me to put into perspective that I haven't been lying to myself about not being gay, or being straight, or maybe bisexual, but its about me allowing myself to simply love my soulmate, no matter what package they came in. We define for ourselves the labels we place on our relationship, so I choose to think of us as John and Sherlock, Watson and Holmes, two pieces of a puzzle that just fit together."

"Holmes and Watson, I think, has a better ring to it." Sherlock smirked at John. John reached up to push his shoulder, but Sherlock caught his hand and brought it to his lips. He gave the knuckles a gentle kiss, before pressing John's palm to his bruised cheek.

"Thank you my Dear Watson." John leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sherlock's forehead. It would take them some time to figure out what this was and what it was going to be, but they would get there in the end.

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_**A/N: Hello Lovelies! This chapter is based on the very small amount of information I found on the Harry Potter Wiki page about the Statute of Secrecy and which muggles get to know about the magical world. Basically it reads that the Prime Minister of the muggle world gets a visit the first day in office from the Minister of Magic and is let in on the secret, but otherwise would not have contact with him unless the need arose. I twisted this a bit since our Mycroft IS the British Government and extended it to Anthea since she is his assistant. (The assistants are the ones that know all the good secrets anyway.) Mummy would have found out through her work with MI-6 at some point.**_

_**Furthermore, there is a mention that only muggles with family members who become a witch or wizard (Hermione's parents, the Dursleys) are allowed to know and interact with the magical world. A witch or wizard who is married to a muggle would also be allowed to share the secret. It doesn't state that they can't tell them until after the marriage, so I took liberties here with John literally being tongue tied about it until Sherlock agreed to marriage. (We'll get into Sherlock's thoughts about it in a later chapter) Also the reason for John to be listed as a wizard and to have to take his tests will be explained later in the story. I hope you are all still enjoying the story and that you'll stick with it. Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!**_


	31. Black Holes and Supernovas

There comes a point in which every person must take responsibility for their actions. Sitting on a chaise lounge in the French themed downstairs sitting room (recently turned war room) Vivienne Holmes thought this had now become one of those times for her youngest. They were all gathered, the key players, for the debriefing of events leading up to the capture of Sebastian Moran. There was also the matter of re-instating Sherlock back into the land of the living.

As she looked across the low table in front of her to her youngest, she had a stream of thought that had come to her countless times over the years. This genius of theirs, was it a blessing or a curse? At what cost had it been granted them? Was it a cost she was willing to continue to pay?

The answers to those questions had changed as many times over the years as they had been asked. Where is the line that you cannot bring yourself to cross? Is this action going to take from you a part of yourself you will never be able to regain? How much of yourself are you willing to give?

She thought of, and answered, all of these questions for both herself and her son as she listened to him tell of his adventures taking down the spider's web. Her eyes slid to the ordinary man next to him. This was the man Sherlock spoke to, though there were others in the room. This was the man that had all of his formidable focus, that blazing intelligence centered directly on him. It essentially all boiled down to one question, these thoughts, is there anything you wouldn't do for family?

That question had been answered in a finite and irrevocable manner the day her son had stepped off the ledge of a hospital roof in order to save this ordinary man in front of her. She had believed for a few hours that he was truly gone, had begun to mourn the loss of that supernova that had shone so brightly. Of course, she had not mourned in the way one would expect. There were no tears, no sobs, no loss of any emotion actually, other than white hot anger. How dare one little upstart of a psychopathic genius try to destroy what he couldn't control! Like a black hole trying to consume everything around it. But her little supernova had not been consumed, dimmed a little yes, but never destroyed.

Her thoughts circled back to that final question. Is there anything you wouldn't do for family? For no one could convince her that John Watson was not family to Sherlock Holmes, that he was not the physical embodiment of home. John Watson, that perfectly ordinary man, who absorbed all the radiance that was Sherlock and reflected it back to him so that he could see and feel and believe the truths about himself that he had hidden from for so long. This ordinary man, who could never be ordinary really, had accomplished what no other person on this earth could. He had taught Sherlock, her supernova, what it meant to be truly free.

There were days, months, years even that she had wondered if he would survive himself, because Sherlock's worst enemy was, is and always would be himself. He was never able to turn it off, that kaleidoscope of thought, never able to completely silence it. He had found ways to dull it, some more destructive than others, all with varying degrees of success. Nothing ever worked for very long though. Those thoughts, those demons that constantly plagued him, that had tried to pull all of the light from him, were never silent. She should amend that now, though. Those thoughts, those demons, had never been silent. Not until ordinary, extraordinary, John Watson had taken her supernova's hand and had given him his heart.

Sherlock had not known what to do with a heart at first, because he was and had always been the brain. The demons, the cacophony, the darkness, now had an angel of silence and light to combat them, to war with. One thing John Watson had always been, even before he technically was, is a soldier. He was simply made for war, he embraced it, always, as an old friend. He walked in it and around it and through it without once flinching. He never risked losing himself in it, or fearing it, or hiding himself from it because it was only one part of the whole that was John Watson. His other self, the doctor, balanced the soldier. The balance he maintained within himself was now given to Sherlock. John Watson was the balance for Sherlock Holmes, the heart for the head, the emotions for the intellect.

All of this ran through Mummy's head while she listened to Sherlock. She had helped him make plans over the last eighteen months, had strategized and conspired and done everything in her power to make sure that he would be sitting here today. When she had met John, though, and had looked into those eyes at the soldier, she knew she was not the reason he was there, across from her. It was the contradictory man seated next to him that they all had to thank for that.

Vivienne tuned back into the conversation when the subject of Harry's kidnapping came up. "How did he get out of the passages? You told me they were Sherlock proofed, Mycroft!"

Sherlock snorted. "There is a door to an underground tunnel that leads into the woods on the south side of the property. You obviously never found it. How exactly did you think I got out of the house so often as a child Mycroft? Really!"

"So you think Harry found this tunnel and Moran snatched him out of the woods?" John asked. He had asked Harry about the incident, but the sedative had apparently caused some memory lapses as well as making him sick. The last thing he remembered before waking in the office building had been playing in the passages.

"I don't think, John, I know. There is absolutely no way that Moran could have gotten into the house. Mummy's security system is actually me-proofed. I wasn't able to get into the house even once when we were testing it. That combined with the magical protections you told me of on the house means he did not get into Dearbourne." Sherlock was back to being his usual snarky self when in the company of others it seemed.

"Alright, that makes sense. Moran could have easily been in the woods. He did say Harry walked right into his arms." John scrubbed his hand, the one Sherlock was not in possession of, over his face.

"So what happens to Moran now?" All three Holmes' smirked identically, which cause a chill to run down the spines of John, Kingsley, and even Anthea.

"Now I get to do what I was trained for. Extract as much information as possible by doing whatever I need to do to get it." Mummy replied.

John swallowed before answering. "I don't want to know about that do I?"

Mummy's smile got a little bit wider, which means it also got a little bit scarier. "Plausible deniability, my dear, I'm sure you understand."

John nodded and tried not to shiver. "So what next? Where do we go from here?"

"We have to raise my brother from the dead. With the evidence he has collected on Moriarty's web, the press will have no problem turning in his favor once more. You and Detective Inspector Lestrade have already managed to clear his name with New Scotland Yard. The groundwork you've been laying there will help as well. We will hold a press conference after Harry's party. Lestrade will act as our liaison with the Yard. We have handpicked the journalists who have been invited as we believe they will be the most likely to report accurately what has transpired." As he spoke, Anthea handed packets to everyone in the room. The room was quiet for a few minutes as everyone looked through what they had been given.

"We will all be joining my brother there as a show of a united front." Mycroft began, before being interrupted by John.

"No. Harry will not be there. I will not put him in front of the press like that. Don't forget he has his own enemies, Mycroft." John's jaw had firmed. He thought he might have a fight on his hands about this. Mycroft wanted them to play happy families for the camera, but John would not allow Harry to be pulled into it.

"John," Mycroft started before being interrupted once again.

"I agree with John, Mycroft. While Harry's enemies are part of the magical world, that does not mean they don't have ties and lives in the muggle one. It is too risky." Kingsley announced his opinion.

"I agree with them as well." Mummy chimed in.

Mycroft looked to his brother. Sherlock had surprisingly not commented yet. The two had one of those silent battle of wits that no one else seemed able to keep up with, except perhaps Mummy. After several minutes of silence Sherlock finally spoke. "For once, Mycroft, instead of thinking about what is best for the country or for the family, think about what is best for the individual in question here. He does not need to be subjected to that now, he will be soon enough. Don't keep repeating the same mistakes, Mycroft."

Mycroft gave the Holmesian version of a jerk, that is to say he blinked, at Sherlock's statement. It was not said with malice or anger, but was simply a reminder of things only three people in this room knew the complete history of. They maintained eye contact for a few seconds more before Mycroft dropped his gaze.

"Very well, Harry will not attend and we will do all we can to keep him out of the spotlight and the press. Everyone else, however will be there. John we need to get you a new suit, the one you own is deplorable." John frowned, but the rest of the room chuckled.

"I told you it was hideous." Sherlock sounded a bit too amused for John's liking.

"Oi, shut it, you!" Before they could get into a bit of a tussle, Mycroft continued.

"We will be presenting all relevant evidence, using confessions of the few captured associates, as well as the audio from the roof, edited of course. Then we will announce that Sherlock will resume working with New Scotland Yard and taking private cases. We will also announce your engagement."

Both Sherlock and John protested this loudly and spiritedly. "No!" "Absolutely bloody not!"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Do you not plan to share our news?"

"You know we don't Mycroft. When we get married, it will not be some overblown affair with all the right people invited and having to get security to keep out the paparazzi. It will be done our way, on our terms, and on our timetable. If you can't abide by that, you will not be there." John was back in Captain mode.

As John stared him down, Sherlock squeezed his hand lightly. For the second time that day Mycroft dropped his gaze first. "Very well."

John relaxed back into his seat as they switched over to the topic of Harry's party and Anthea took over the meeting. As they were leaving to go into dinner, he found Mummy had sidled up next him and while Sherlock's attention was on giving Mycroft grief about his diet, she gave him a charming smile and a wink. "Bravo, darling."

Yes, she thought to herself, John Watson was definitely family and he was going to look lovely in the suit she picked out for him to marry her supernova in.

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A/N: Hello Lovelies! Not sure what happened here, but it's a chapter. I'm afraid I'm a bit stuck at the moment, so ideas would be appreciated! Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!


	32. An Introduction

The week leading up to Harry's party was strange in many ways. For John, he was rebuilding and strengthening his relationship with Sherlock while also trying to adjust to the dynamic change. He was delighted with how well Harry and Sherlock were getting along. Sherlock was fascinated by Harry, with the way he thought, and the whys of doing things. They spent hours together outside in the garden and the woods as well as inside. Sherlock and Mummy had gone into the tunnels after their debriefing and childproofed the door that led into the woods, so he and Harry spent time in there as well. They seemed to have found a new playmate in each other.

Sherlock had changed. In some ways it was subtle, while in others it was glaringly obvious. He ate and slept more, though still not as much as John would like. He hated inactivity and being bored, but instead of trying to shoot at the walls or taking it out on those around him, he would find something to grab his attention. He was more openly affectionate, with both John and Harry. He was infinitely patient with Harry, answering any and every question posed him, never once treating them as stupid. He and Mycroft still sniped at each other almost constantly, though. He was deferential to Mummy and polite to the staff. He still got lost in his own head quite often, but he was quicker to respond to outside stimuli than he had been. The biggest difference was that he talked. He didn't hold back from sharing things with John, there were no more secrets between them.

They were in the large library, John sitting on the end of the overstuffed couch, Sherlock lying on it with his head resting on John's thigh. They both held a book, though they had been abandoned during their talk. The french doors were open to the garden, where Harry was being taught to play chess by Mummy. Sherlock had been sharing his memories of when Mummy had taught him to play chess as a child when John had interrupted him. "Sherlock, why are you telling me all these things? Not that I want you to stop, but before, trying to get you to tell me anything was like trying to get Mycroft to stop bugging the flat."

Sherlock had closed his eyes and while he thought John watched him, continuing to run his fingers through that wild mop of curls, which he had unconsciously been doing while they read. Finally Sherlock had opened his eyes and tilted his head back slightly while he replied to the question. "Partly it is a way of making amends. I am also making up for lost time, when you weren't there for me to tell. Mostly, I just want you to know. I want you to be able to understand."

A small smile appeared on John's face. "Alright. Thank you for telling me."

Sherlock finished telling John about the memory. They went back to their books and read for a while longer until Harry came barreling into the room landing on Sherlock's midsection. "Papa! 'Lock! I beat Mimi!"

Mummy had followed him into the room and while John and Sherlock gave him indulgent smiles thinking that she must have let him win, when they looked over to her, she had a thoughtful look on her face. "He beat me fair and square. I didn't throw the game. He anticipated every move and countermove. I believe we may have a master strategist on our hands."

Sherlock smiled and John congratulated Harry. They were interrupted when the first of their guests for the weekend were announced. Anthea and Mycroft had gone all out for the party. It was a whole weekend affair with activities scheduled for each day, with the actual party being held on Sunday afternoon. When the butler announced Molly and Greg, Harry had launched himself off of Sherlock and across the room into Lestrade's arms.

Sherlock grunted and tried to get his breath back, but didn't say anything about being used as a human launch pad. This routine was repeated a few more times throughout the afternoon and early evening as people continued to arrive. Mrs. Hudson followed soon after Greg and Molly. The Grangers arrived in the early evening, both waiting until after work to leave London. Sherlock had been reminded several times that these were the parents of Harry's very best friend and that he absolutely must not upset them or dire consequences would follow. This, it turns out, was not really needed as Sherlock was almost as enraptured by Hermione as he was with Harry. He was polite during the few conversations he had with the Grangers, but for the most part he played with the children or stuck by John.

Sunday afternoon arrived quickly. Almost everyone was present already, with several of Harry's school friends making the trip for the day, but when Harry heard the sound of four adults apparating into the garden, he ran around the side of the house to greet them. Greg and Molly were the only ones present who knew about the magical world, but were not exactly supposed to. Mrs. Hudson had been told because she was listed as Harry's Gran and as much as she put off the air of being absent-minded, she was actually very sharp. Not to mention suddenly interactive skulls did have a way of getting one's attention rather quickly.

Greg and Molly had been at Baker Street for dinner when he'd had one of his accidental magic incidences, this time causing the silverware to drum rhythmically on the tables. Greg had simply raised an eyebrow at John. "Do I want to know?"

John had shaken his head. "Can't tell you even if you did."

"Anything I need to be worried about?"

"No. Let's just say it's one of his quirks."

A look passed between Greg and Molly. "Alright then, we'll see you soon."

They had departed and nothing more had been spoken about the incident, but John knew they were both aware it wasn't exactly normal behavior, even if they didn't have a explanation for it.

Sherlock watched curiously as the new additions to the party, following Harry, made their way over to where he sat beside John. The older grey wizard walked slightly ahead of the others, this must be Dumbledore. Like Harry, he could deduce several things about the wizard, but could not completely read him. He was followed by a small, intimidating woman, McGonagall. She was fairly easy to deduce, but she reminded him of both John and Mummy. Best not to underestimate her, yet he looked forward to her being able to surprise him. He had met Kingsley during their debriefing.

When his eyes finally came to rest on the fourth member of the group, he found himself intrigued. So many secrets were hidden behind his nearly black eyes. His skin was sallow, his hair black and stringy. He wore long black robes and held himself in an aloof manner. The look on his face could best be described as a sulk, though Sherlock could tell he was very interested in being there for an as yet to be determined reason.

He was taking in Sherlock in much the same manner as he was being observed. Strangely, Sherlock felt a disturbance in his mind palace, like there was a presence that shouldn't be there. He quickly scanned his mind, slamming doors and creating walls where there had been open spaces. The look on the other man's face was a mixture of suprised and impressed.

The group finally stopped in front of them and John stood to greet them and make introductions. Sherlock listened with half an ear, still studying the wizard before him. He was finally pulled from his observations by John sliding his hand into Sherlock's. "Albus, Minerva, I would like you to meet Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock nodded to each in turn, but chose to stay silent. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he took in the positioning of the two men in front of him. "I see he took the news rather well."

John blushed, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, before answering. "Surprisingly so."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, merrily. "Well it looks as if I have a new student to teach then! I find myself looking forward to it."

John sighed. "You really shouldn't be. He's quite a pain in the arse."

"John!" Sherlock faked a gasp.

"Oh don't act like you're offended. You know it's the truth." A devilish smile tugged at the corners of Sherlock's mouth, accompanied by an eye roll.

"I must admit I'm intrigued by everything I've been told. I've deduced that you are rather well respected by your colleagues as well as most of the magical world, so I suppose you'll do as a tutor. Just try not to bore me." John squeezed his fingers tightly. He rolled his eyes once more.

"Fine. Please try not to bore me. Thank you." He huffed, slightly put out by John's insistence on manners.

Dumbledore just chuckled. "He's exactly the way you showed him to be, John! I am quite looking forward to getting to know you better Mr. Holmes!"

Sherlock's eyes had narrowed at Dumbledore's exclamation. "What do you mean he showed you?"

"Ah yes, John was willing to show me some of his memories of you. It's done by a method of extracting the memory through a spell and then observing it through a tool called a pensieve. It allows the observer to feel almost as if they were present during the events of the memory."

"Interesting. I've not yet been able to read the books you have given John, but once I am done with my data collection, I expect I will have several questions."

"As I said I look forward to it. Oh, I'm afraid I've failed to introduce my collegue to you all. This is Severus Snape, Potions teacher at Hogwarts. I asked him to accompany us today, because I thought you two might have quite a bit in common. Potions is the subject most closely related to chemistry, which I have learned quite interests you." Dumbledore motioned for Snape to step forward.

The man had a sour look on his face, but they both disregarded it. "How do you do?"

His voice was almost as deep as Sherlock's and he carried himself with much of the same air, but that seemed to be where the outward similarities ended. John looked at him closely, instincts unsure of what to make of him. He was here because he had been asked to come but John could tell that there was another reason, even if he hadn't yet discovered it. He made it a point to ask Sherlock at the first opportunity. "We're very well thank you."

John's manner was stiff and formal, which made him uncomfortable, and drew Sherlock's attention. He'd noticed him stiffen into his attention stance immediately of course, but wasn't sure why he was perceiving Snape as a threat already. He squeezed John's hand lightly.

"Right, sorry, I should get you all drinks and introduce you to the others. The games are due to start soon." John released Sherlock's hand but made eye contact before he turned to lead the group over to the other adults at the party. Sherlock watched them for a while, before joining the children who were already involved in a game of chase, as per John's silent request to stick close to Harry.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Another chapter for you, and although I'm completely unhappy with it, I'm going to post it anway. It has given me a direction to go, so hopefully the writing will go better in the days to come. I've fallen way behind on answering your reviews, so I'm going to try to get to those as well! This chapter is for Red who asked for Sherlock to meet Snape and for Snape to attend Harry's party. Not sure where exactly it's all headed at the moment, but once I get started, I don't usually have too many problems. Please keep the ideas coming! Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	33. Uneasy Alliances

While John had been introducing the quartet to the other guests at the party, he was serepitiously keeping an eye on the newest member of the group. He could easily tell he wasn't there simply because he had been asked to come and to make Sherlock's acquaintance. There was an ulterior motive there, and John needed to suss it out before he would feel easy.

After almost an hour, he was finally able to get Albus aside so that he could ask him about the strange man. "Albus, how well do you know Snape?"

Albus was quite enjoying himself and was quite merry, so he didn't think anything much of John's question. "Severus? I've known him for years. He was a contemporary of Harry's parents at school. Although I must say he did not get along with James. Why do you ask John?"

John paused before he answered. "Do you trust him Albus? I've got a feeling he's hiding something."

"Ah, yes, I see." Albus became serious rather quickly. "I trust him with my life John, otherwise I would not have brought him here. I suspect that Severus is hiding a great many things, as we all do, but I do not believe that he means any ill intent. He was, in fact, quite stricken to learn of Harry's history while with his aunt and uncle."

John's posture was slightly defensive, arms crossed, brow creased, and lips pursed as he analyzed what Dumbledore said. "So he's here to check us out. What exactly does he think gives him the right?"

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes following the object of their conversation, who was currently looking miserable while Mrs. Hudson seemed to talk his ear off. "I am afraid, John, that that is not my story to tell. I will only say that while he did not get along with James Potter, Lily was an entirely different matter. Harry and Hermione remind me quite a lot of the two of them as youngsters."

John's posture relaxed as he began to understand what he was being told. If James and Snape didn't get along, but Lily and Snape did, there were probably some jealousy issues there. If they were friends like Albus implied, but Lily married James, it was likely that Snape had been in love with his cousin. "Okay, I think I get it. Thank you Albus."

With a nod, Albus left John where he was standing and made his way over to where Mummy was sitting. She smiled up at him and the two struck up an intense, but jovial conversation. John's contemplation of the situation was further interrupted when Anthea announced that it was time for the games to begin.

The party was, of course, Doctor Who themed and Anthea had modified several games to fit. There was the Dalek relay, where each child had a cone shaped piece of plastic which they were required to hold up and run across the lawn in until they reached their partner, where they then swapped and the partner ran back to the starting line.

There was the banana eating contest, to see who could peel and eat three bananas first. Cyberman tag, in which several of Mycroft's staff had volunteered to dress in silver jumpsuits and chase the children around. If you were caught, you were 'upgraded' and had to switch over to the cyberman's team. There was a Tardis building contest using gingerbread dyed blue, which the adults voted on and the children got to eat after it was all said and done. Finally there was pear bobbing which ended the games with wet, sticky, happily exhausted children.

Harry enthusiastically opened his presents, exclaiming over everything he recieved before everyone had fish fingers (which were really wafers rolled in cookie crumbs) and custard instead of cake. It was late afternoon when the party began to break up, parents needing to get their children and themselves home, and soon it was only just the close group of friends and the quartet of wizards.

John and Sherlock were sitting next to each other with the rest of the group scattered over the various pieces of lawn furniture around them. Harry was perched in Lestrade's lap where he was holding court telling stories of John and Sherlock's adventures to the Grangers, Minerva, Albus, and Kingsley. Molly and Mrs. Hudson were sipping tea and talking about knitting patterns they might trade. Mycroft and Mummy were in conversation about how well things had gone, while Anthea quietly but efficiently guided the staff in clearing away the deritus that remained.

Snape approached John and Sherlock. "May I?"

He gestured to the chair on their right, the furthest away from everyone else, and waited for Sherlock's nod before he sat. "I am aware that you do not know me, and therefore, most likely will disregard whatever it is I have to say, however, I am of the opinion that Mr. Potter is doing quite well with you."

"Yes, we are aware, what we are not aware of, is why exactly it matters so much to you." Sherlock's tone was mild, but it carried a certain air of protectiveness in it. John had already relayed Dumbledore's revelations about Snape to Sherlock, who had not commented on it at the time.

Snape didn't move other than to stiffen a bit more in his chair. "I attended Hogwarts at the same time as Mr. Potter's parents, but I new Lily before we left for school. We were quite close for many years, but...events managed to seperate us. I simply wanted to insure her child had a similar childhood experience to what she enjoyed."

"Mmmmm.." Sherlock murmered, hands coming to rest under his chin, in what John began to call his thinking pose. "There's more. Don't try to deny it, it's tedious in the extreme, just get it over with."

Snape scowled even more than he already was at Sherlock's impatient declaration. "There is nothing more."

"Boring. I didn't take you to be so predictible, pity. You were in love with Lily, hated James because he bullied you, and you really came here to see how much Harry is like them. You are hoping he takes after his mother, he has her eyes after all, but you were extremely disapointed in how much he looks like his father. Had you taken the time to observe him, instead of dismissing him after your first glance, you would have seen how he interacted with every child here today. He is not the bully his father was. John reliably enforms me that along with her eyes, he seems to have inherited her heart and sensibilities." Sherlock smirked while taking a deep breath, watching the various reactions on Snape's face.

"Furthermore, I believe it is quite rude to try to read my mind without my permission. Although I am intrigued to learn about the process behind it. In future you should ask first." Snape was shocked, but tried not let it show overmuch.

"How could you possibly know about occlumency, you are only a muggle." Another smirk was sent his way, this time in double. Sherlock looked at John, with a raised eyebrow.

John shook his head. "Go on, you might as well."

"I didn't know, I deduced. Everything about you gives me answers, from the way you carry yourself to what you are not saying when speaking. As for the other, I could feel you in my head, you confirmed that it was you rooting around for information by your facial expression when I booted you out."

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is this deducing you speak of something that can be taught?"

"Rarely, though it is not for lack of trying. Most people are idiots, they see but they do not observe!" John rolled his eyes at this common refrain once again coming from Sherlock.

"I believe we could...work out a trade, if you were...amenable." Snape said in his drawn out way.

Sherlock observed him for a moment, easily picking up his train of thought. "Yes, I do believe we can. I am interested in learning if potion making is more similar to cooking or chemistry. We'll set something up once we return to Baker Street. I'll send the owl."

John wasn't sure it was a great idea to let the two spend any time together, but apparently Sherlock read all he needed to know and chose to spend time with this man in front of them. Though he still had his doubts about Snape's motives, he decided to see how things played out.

Not long after the end of their conversation, the witch and wizards took their leave, Harry, who had fallen asleep in Lestrade's lap, was put to bed, and the adults slowly gave in to the inevitable end of the evening making their way to their rooms in singles and pairs.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I seem to be back on my stride writing wise! I got a chapter and a half finished last night! I was extatic to get the reviews you guys wrote for the last chapter and so happy that you liked it! _**

**_Just so you know, I will be going on vacation starting tomorrow, so updates will be sporadic and entirely dependent on how much time/energy (and alcoholic drinks) I have while we are camping and tubing. Luckily for you, my best friend is addicted to technology and has portable internet that he is bringing with him, so I can upload if I have something written. So please continue to be patient and keep sending me your ideas, they were a lifesaver! Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	34. Home

They'd stayed on the estate for three days following Harry's party before making their eventual return to Baker Street. When they had first entered the flat, Sherlock had become quiet. He looked around the rooms like he had never seen them before, noting all the changes that had taken place in his absence. It was notably cleaner and less cluttered, signs of all three of them were everywhere though. On the mantle the skull now sported a fez. Next to it stood the picture of Harry and John from Halloween along with several pictures of Harry alone, with Hermione, and a group picture from Christmas. Sherlock noted that his chair had a small Harry sized divet in it, many hours spent there leaving a mark. John's mark on flat was noted as well in the antique army memorabilia and the quilts laid across the backs of the furniture. The desk in the corner held his laptop, a cup with the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers crest holding pens and pencils, and a sketch pad. Above it, from a hook in the ceiling hung Hedwig's empty cage.

He noticed John gently led Harry upstairs to unpack so that Sherlock could have a few minutes alone. He noted the yellow smiley face was still on the wall, the harpoon mounted high above it, but the kitchen held nothing resembling science equipment. He and John had discussed it and at Mummy's suggestion, he would set up his lab in 221C. Mrs. Hudson had readily agreed with renting them the extra flat at an obscenely low price as it was honestly uninhabitable without major work.

He sank into his chair, hands coming up in front of his face, fingertips touching and retreated into his mind palace to start reorganizing and planning. Tomorrow they would hold a press conference to announce Sherlock's return to the living as well as his reinstatement with the Met, who would now being paying him for the cases he worked for them.

Greg had advocated that having him on retainer would be less risky for everyone involved and would hopefully prevent another scenario like Moriarty from happening again. It also gave Sherlock a more secure and respectable position to work from as well. He would still take private cases, those were after all more profitable, and he would still get to choose which cases he consulted on with NSY.

The Grangers had offered to let Harry stay with them while the adults were all at the press conference and for the week following it, to keep him out of the worst of the media storm that was sure to follow. He would be able to keep to his normal schedule, attend school, and it would give everyone a chance to adjust to life being normal, or as normal as it would ever be on Baker Street.

John and Sherlock had agreed to this only on the terms that they would take Hermione for four long weekends whenever the Grangers wanted to get away, just the two of them. Harry and Hermione, needless to say, were over the moon at the prospect of a week long playdate and slumber party.

The Grangers had taken the news of Hermione being a witch incredibly well according to Minerva, who had been the one to sit down with them and explain. When they had found out Harry was a wizard, they'd simply shaken their heads and said much the same thing about Hermione being able to find a wizard best friend as Kingsley had told him. They weren't receiving all the lessons and visits that John had been privileged to, but he was always happy to talk to them about things and to act as a go between if necessary. He really couldn't ask for more level headed people to go through this unique situation with. Even Sherlock had to say he respected the couple's relative ease in accepting the situation as well as their complete support for not only Hermione, but Harry as well.

Sherlock's contemplation of events was interrupted when Harry and John came back down the stairs. John continued into the kitchen to start the kettle and order takeaway for dinner, while Harry made his way over to Sherlock and climbed into his lap. "Welcome home, 'Lock. Yorik says he is happy to see you. He told me he missed talking to you, so I talked to him instead."

It took Sherlock about three seconds to figure out who Harry was talking about, before realizing it was the skull. "You talked to my skull? What did you and Yorik talk about? And why would you give him a name like Yorik?"

Sherlock sounded so offended by the name that Harry giggled and leaned into him further. "He told me that was his name. He used to be a viking a long time ago, but he was killed when he came to England to raid towns. He's kind of grumpy about not getting a proper viking burial. He talks about that a lot. He also tells me stories about the Norse Gods. Those are all really cool! Thor is my favorite though! "

Sherlock chuckled at Harry's enthusiasm. He really was delighted with Harry. "Remind me to tell you about a case I solved once where the killer dressed as different Norse Gods then. I'm sure you'll quite enjoy it."

They spent the rest of the evening settling back in. Harry showed Sherlock his room and after dinner, a bath, and a puzzle, Sherlock tucked Harry in and told him the story about the Norse God killer, edited at John's insistence, until he fell asleep.

Later that night, John and Sherlock were in bed in Sherlock's old room. They had gotten used to sleeping side by side at the manor and found comfort in being close, so they hadn't bothered with trying to come up with another solution when they returned home. Sherlock usually only slept for about five hours a night, but John didn't say a word when he woke up alone, happy he was sleeping that much. John hadn't had a single nightmare about Afghanistan or Sherlock's fall since he had returned, so he was considerably more well rested than he had been in years.

They sat propped up, side by side, once again covering the questions that Mycroft and Anthea were sure would be asked. They (mostly John) rehearsed the approved answers and did his best to memorize them. Sherlock looked over the contingency plans that had been drawn up in case a reporter went rogue and asked a question not on the list. Needless to say there was a lot of snorting, eye rolling, and a few "Oh, for the love of God, Mycroft, really?"s thrown out.

John was more nervous about the following day than he wanted to admit. He remembered the backlash after Sherlock's fall and even after he had been cleared of all charges and wrong doing, there had been those that had lashed out verbally, and once physically, at both John and Lestrade. He didn't think Sherlock's resurrection would go over very well, or at least not as well as the detective believed it would.

Frankly he had gotten of fairly lightly with his friends, thanks to his phone message and Mycroft's decision to let them in on the secret of Sherlock being alive. They had had months to deal with the idea and accompanying emotions before he actually came home. John admitted that he had gone through the full spectrum of feelings. He had been unbearably happy, then he had raged like never before. He felt betrayed that Sherlock hadn't told him, but at the same time understood why. He was scared he would loose him for real before getting to see him again and then had gone back to all the ways he could hurt him in return for leaving John in the state he had been in before Harry. He had briefly contemplated leaving Baker Street and starting over with Harry somewhere that was not in London, but that thought only lasted a few minutes. In the end, he hadn't really had time to react to Sherlock's return because his focus had been on Harry and Moran.

After the danger had passed, while he was laying on the bed holding Harry back in the guest room at the Manor, he thought back to the many conversations he had had with Albus about feelings and leaving things unsaid. He had already had regrets about those things and he didn't want to feel that again if something were to happen a second time, God forbid. So John had finally settled on being happy to have his friend back, to do his best to let the past go, though he would never let himself forget those dark days.

Still he worried for Sherlock. This would be their first time back in the public eye since his return and things had noticeably changed between them. Would the press pick up on that? Would they find out about Harry? There were so many things that could go wrong, John wasn't sure where to start.

"John, stop thinking so loudly, you're distracting me!" John gave up on trying to cram for the interview tomorrow and set the papers on the bedside table at Sherlock's exclamation. Sherlock looked up from his own stack and sighed.

"Stop worrying about it. Everything will be fine and we'll deal with anything else as it comes. They are very unlikely to ask any of the right questions anyway. Idiots, all of them!"

John frowned. "Sherlock..."

Another sigh from the detective before he interrupted once more. "John Watson, it will be fine. Let it go."

John studied him for a minute longer, before sliding down the bed with his back to Sherlock deciding he wouldn't say anything more about it. He was going to pick his battles and this was one he most likely wouldn't win, so a tactical retreat was in order. He just hoped everything turned out the way that Sherlock believed it would.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I'm finally back in civilization and not completely wiped, so you get the chapter that you have all been waiting so very patiently for! I hope to start posting at least one chapter a day again and possibly more on the weekend. I'm so happy that so many of you are enjoying this story and I want to send hugs to those who have left reviews and ideas! Kiss your brains, my dears, you are fantastic and have come up with some brilliant ideas! _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! _**


	35. Reckoning

When the alarm went off the next morning, John grumbled as he rolled over and turned it off. After only a few seconds, the plans for the day washed over him and he couldn't help but sigh as the butterflies once again took up residence in his stomach. He knew he was alone in the room, but he reached over to Sherlock's side of the bed anyway, finding it completely cold. He had been up for quite a while then. John stretched, then got out of bed, wrapping himself up in Sherlock's modified dressing gown before going into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

Both Sherlock and Harry were seated at the table. Harry was sleepily eating a bowl of cereal, hair sticking up in all directions, and still in his pajamas. Sherlock was fully dressed for the day, in one of the new suits Mycroft and Mummy had had sent over, reading the paper, occasionally humming or scoffing at something he read. He looked up when John entered, but went back to his paper without saying anything. John couldn't help but to have a sappy moment to think that if this is what his mornings would be like from now on, he would be quite content.

He went about making toast for himself and Sherlock while waiting for the kettle to boil. He prepared their tea and carried it all over to the table, setting Sherlock's in front of him. The silence was uninterrupted as they finished their breakfast, Sherlock only eating one piece of his toast, though he did it without complaining. John sent Harry to get ready for school, where they would drop him on their way to Scotland Yard. The morning sped up after that, becoming it's usual whirlwind of activity to get out of the house on time. John took extra care with his appearance, then stepped into the new (and he had to admit, quite gorgeous) suit that had been sent along with Sherlock's.

The suit was a traditional cut, but fit him extraordinarily well. The fine slate gray material did all the things a good suit was supposed to do. It made his shoulders look broader, his waist trimmer, and his legs longer. There was a Caribbean blue dress shirt that accompanied it and a cream colored silk tie with small polka dots in various shades of blue. He noticed that the overall effect it gave him was one of assurance and confidence and once he assumed his military straight posture, he looked quite dapper.

He exited the bedroom once again. Sherlock was gathering up Harry's bag where it had been pulled down the stairs by the young boy. Harry was school presentable now and talking a mile a minute to Sherlock about all the things he and Hermione would do in the next week. They both stopped as John entered the sitting room. Sherlock immediately scanned John, before his mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. Harry's face split into a huge grin. "Papa, you look fantastic!"

John smiled at the boy and at Sherlock. "Thank you, Harry. Are we all ready then? Can't be late today."

They exited the house after collecting Mrs. Hudson, who wore a lovely purple dress and had a hat purched on her head. As agreed, one of Mycroft's cars was waiting to pick them up. They climbed in, as the driver held the door open. They stopped at Harry's school, John introducing Sherlock as another of Harry's guardians and quickly filling out paperwork that would allow the Granger's to take him home for the following week. Harry gave them all a hug and they promised to call him everyday to check in. Mrs. Granger came in with Hermione, just as they were leaving and they exchanged a few last minute details, before she laid her hand on John's arm and assured him it would all be okay. "We are only a few blocks away, he'll be fine. Good luck today."

Sherlock pulled him insistently out the door. "John he's fine. Stop acting like he's never been away from you before."

They got back in the car. John shook himself and tried to get his emotions back under control. He knew Harry would be okay, he was just nervous and venting it in the only manner he could at the moment. They arrived at Scotland Yard much too soon for his peace of mind, but forced himself to calm down as they were escorted in by Mycroft's men and up to Greg's office. The rest of the group was waiting for them when they arrived. Everyone was dressed to kill and John noticed that Greg was sporting a new suit quite similar to his own. Both Anthea and Molly were in dresses similar to ones recently made popular by the Duchess of Cambridge. He looked over to Mummy, who looked like the cat that got the canary and knew immediately she had intervened in wardrobe selection for the day.

They quickly went over last minute details. Reminders coming from both Mycroft and Mummy (mostly directed at Sherlock) that they would only have one chance at this and everyone had to be on their A game. Finally, it was time to go to the press room. The filed out of the office, John and Sherlock trailing behind a little bit. When they reached the door to the press room, John squeezed Sherlock's hand, causing him to look down at his doctor.

"Together?" John asked him. Sherlock squeezed his hand before dropping it. "From now on, John."

Sherlock nodded to the two officers stationed at the door. The doors opened and the group made their way into the room amidst what felt like thousands of flashbulbs going off and questions being shouted at them from the reporters. They did an admirable job maintaining their poker faces for the crowd, though most of them could see through each other if they looked closely enough. They got themselves seated at the long table, which held a microphone for each of them as well as a name plate to indicate their seating arrangement. The reporters were still in a frenzy of shouted questions and picture taking.

Once the room was finally settled enough to speak over, Greg began talking. "Thank you all for coming today. As you know, we are here to announce that Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, is in fact alive and has rejoined us in London after completing his deep undercover mission to dismantle the crime network of James Moriarty. Three years ago it was reported that Mr. Holmes committed suicide by jumping off the roof of St. Bartholomew's hospital. This report was obviously false, however, as part of his cover, a much needed situation. We will begin by once again listening to the recording from the rooftop of St. Barts between Mr. Holmes and James Moriarty, before we present new evidence that has come to us since Mr. Holmes' return. We will then open the floor for questions."

The room became eerily silent as the exhange between Moriarty and Sherlock started to play over the loud speaker. John looked into the audience of reporters, noting the tape recorders, television cameras, and the now only occasional flashbulb, were recording their reactions. He did his best to keep his features schooled, but hearing Moriarty's voice still caused a chill to run down his spine. The recording ended with the sound of the gunshot followed by Sherlock's whispered "No."

John looked over at Sherlock, whose face was like stone, before noticing that the room had exploded once again. The first time the recording had been released, it had been edited to end just before Moriarty had killed himself. It was part of the plan to reveal that Moriarty was dead and the manner in which it had occured. Greg managed to get the room back under control in only a few minutes.

"As you can tell, we had previously edited the content of the audio recording, but felt that it was time to let you hear the unedited version." Greg was interrupted by a reported shouting a question at Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes! Is this proof of Moriarty's death? Or was he only injured?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "James Moriarty had a gun concealed on his person. Once he let it be known that only he could call off the snipers trained on my friends, he killed himself by putting the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. He was dead before he hit the ground."

There were several shocked gasps and winces in response to Sherlock's blunt and vivid description, but Greg continued before Sherlock could. John kicked Sherlock under the table while glaring at him discretely.

"As I was saying, James Moriarty ended his own life by discharging a gun into his brain. His body is buried in a London cemetery under an unmarked tombstone." Greg took a deep breath and glanced at Sherlock and John before continuing.

'Now as for the new evidence. We have received enough evidence to charge James Moriarty, Sebastian Moran, and 20 others with manslaughter, abduction, terrorism, trafficking of weapons into Iraq and Afghanistan, human trafficking, child pornograpy, distribution and production of narcotics and other drugs, blackmail, and bribery as well as 46 lesser charges. We will now open the floor for questions. You may address anyone on the panel."

The questions started to come at them rapid fire. It took a few moments before they were able to distinguish between questions and who they were for. The first question was, of course, for Sherock.

**"Mr. Holmes! How did you survive the fall? Did you actually jump from the roof of St. Barts?"**

Yes, I did actually jump from the roof. I had a plan in place just for that eventuality, however I am not at liberty to share the specifics with you."

**Dr. Watson! Did you know that Sherlock had faked his death?**

"Not at first, no. I was informed of his survival around six months ago." John's hands were clinched in his lap. He knew he would be asked the question, but it still was not easy to think about that situation.

**Miss Hooper, what role did you play in this scheme?**

"I declared Sherlock dead as we planned ahead of time. It is my signature on his death certificate." Molly blushed a bit, but was able to answer in a fairly confident manner.

**DI Lestrade! Who is Sebastian Moran?**

"Sebastian Moran was the sniper assigned to Dr. Watson. He is a former Colonel in her Majesty's Army discharged for misconduct. He was also James Moriarty's right hand man and took over running the operation after his death."

**Where is Moran now?**

"Moran is in the custody of MI-6. He has been charged with all the crimes I listed earlier."

**How was he captured?**

"Dr. Watson was able to subdue him in a standoff. He had taken Mr. Holmes hostage. It was a joint operation between New Scotland Yard, MI-5 and MI-6. As this is still an ongoing investigation, that is all I am able to share with you."

**Mrs. Holmes, your name tag says you are with MI-6. What was your role?**

"I acted as liason between Sherlock and MI-6 during the entirety of his operation. I was also present during the capture of Sebastion Moran."

**DI Lestrade, will there be any charges pressed against Mr. Holmes?**

"No. Mr. Holmes was cleared of all charges before his return, as you know. Everything that happened after his jump is under the jurisdiction of the British Government."

**Mr. Mycroft Holmes! You work for the goverment. Will there be any charges pressed?**

"No. My brother acted with the full backing of the government as well as the royal family. He is a fully sanctioned government agent and acted accordingly."

**Mr. Holmes, will you be taking cases again?**

"Yes. I will continue to consult with New Scotland Yard as well as take private and government cases."

**Dr. Watson! Will you assit him again? Will you start your blog back up?**

"Yes, I will assist Sherlock on future cases. We have not decided on whether or not to continue the blog. I do have a contract at the moment, though to turn my blog into a book or a series of books."

**Are you and Sherlock a couple?**

John and Sherlock pointedly did not look at each other. "Our personal life is still not up for discussion. Next question." Sherlock replied.

There were a few murmers, but the questioning continued.

**Mrs. Hudson, you were one of the ones Moriarty threatened. What is your relationship to Mr. Holmes?**

Mrs. Hudson was a bit startled about being addressed. She and Anthea were sat behind the group at the table as a show of support.

"Mrs. Hudson is the owner of the house on Baker Street. She was one of my first clients, at the beginning of my career." Sherlock answered in a protective manner.

**Mr. Mycroft Holmes, why were you and Mrs. Holmes not targeted by Moriarty?**

"We believe it was due to our positions. We are both afforded a level of security and protection that most civilians do not have."

**Dr. Watson, there were reports from the scene at St. Barts the day Mr. Holmes jumped that he called you. What was said in that phone call?**

John cleared his throat. "Sherlock called me because I was not supposed to have returned to the hospital. I had been called away with a false report that Mrs. Hudson had been injured. Once I realized that it was not the truth I returned back to St. Barts." He stopped and took a few deep breaths. "When I got back and recieved Sherlock's call, he was already standing on the ledge. He told me that the call was his note. Then he jumped."

A few murmers could be heard and the cameras clicked a little faster.

**Mr. Holmes, why did you call Dr. Watson? Why did you not tell him you were alive?**

"John was walking into the path of the sniper, Moran. I had him walk back to a safer location. I decided not to tell John it was a hoax because he needed to believe I was dead. It was part of the cover. If any of Moriarty's colleagues thought that I was alive, DI Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John would be in danger again. To my knowledge there was no time limit on the kill order given by Moriarty."

**Dr. Watson, you said you found out six months ago that Mr. Holmes was alive. Who told you and why?**

"Yes. I received a package that had a video from Sherlock. I began to suspect then that he might not have died. Mycroft confirmed that he was alive, but under cover. Both DI Lestrade and I found out at the same time."

After another hour the questions started to die out and the group got ready to end the interview. Just as they were standing for pictures, the doors burst open and Kitty Riley charged through them. She was screaming hysterically about how they were lying and how Moriarty had actually been Richard Brook. She pulled open the large down jacket she was wearing revealing a semtex vest strapped around her upper body. She held a detonation device in her hand. Mycroft's security as well as other members of the yard started moving forward, but John could tell they would not make it in time. There was a security guard moving quickly towards him and as he got within arms reach, John sidestepped and pulled his firearm from the holster at the small of his back. He completed his spin to avoid the man and aimed at the forehead of the crazed former reporter. One deep breath to center himself and then he pulled the trigger.

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**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Sorry this chapter took so long to post. I finally got all caught up at work, so I get to spend my weekend working on this story! You have been amazing and fantastic and brilliant and I can't thank you enough for sticking with it! I adore getting your reviews and ideas! I know I left you with a great big cliffie here, but I'm hoping to get another chapter posted in a few hours!_**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy!_**


	36. Broadcast Live

**_A/N: John's potty mouth strikes again. _**

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The room was already filled with screams and people diving to take cover when the gun shot rang out. John was hit with a solid weight that sent him crashing to the floor. His head collided with the corner of the chair seat as he was going down and he saw stars before blackness engulfed him.

Mummy and Mycroft began giving orders for the room to be cleared, but people were already stampeding toward the doors. Two agents that had been closest to Kitty Riley were able to catch her as she fell backwards, a single gunshot wound in the middle of her forehead. They lowered her body to the floor carefully, mindful of the bomb still strapped to the body. One pulled the detonation remote from her hand while the other set about getting the vest off the body. Officers were pouring into the room, including the bomb squad.

On the slightly raised platform behind the table, Sherlock pushed himself up off of John's still form. Greg moved over quickly and started trying to rouse John before yelling for a medic. Sherlock was as frantic as Greg had ever seen him, yelling John's name over and over again while shaking him and patting his face. Two medics rushed into the room and Greg quickly moved aside. Mycroft had to pull Sherlock back before he would let them get close enough to assess John. They quickly checked him over finding the back of his head was bleeding profusely.

They worked quickly and efficiently, one applying gauze and pressure to the wound, while the other opened a pack of smelling salts which he began to wave under John's nose. After only a few seconds, John gasped and blinked his eyes open. He still saw stars and quickly blinked to try and get his vision back. He saw two unfamiliar faces directly above him. He turned his head and could see his Sherlock being held by Mycroft and Greg. "Did I get her? I must've, the room's still intact. I got her right?"

The words were slightly slurred and out of his mouth before he could remember who it was he was after. He could feel the cool weight of the gun in his hand and could detect the distinctive smell of a recently fired weapon. In the next few seconds his memories of the past few minutes came rushing back in. "Damn it Sherlock! I told you something would go wrong!"

Sherlock gave a startled laugh before he was released by Greg and Mycroft. He knelt next to one of the medics and took the gun out of John's hand, holding it out for Greg to take. "John you realize you just shot a woman in the head on live television, right?"

It took a few seconds for Sherlock's words to penetrate the still slightly hazy brain, but when they did, he closed his eyes and said the only word appropriate for the situation. "Fuck!"

Both Mycroft and Greg smiled. "Indeed John, indeed."

After lying there for a few more minutes, he finally sat up with the help of the medics and Sherlock. Mummy had rejoined the group by this time and all John could do when he saw her was apologize profusely for getting blood on his lovely suit. Sherlock snorted at this. "I have an excellent dry cleaner, John, as you know. A little blood will be no problem for him."

They eventually got him to his feet. One medic still holding the gauze to his wound, the other ready in case he wobbled. The bomb squad was in front of them, carefully moving the bomb from the body of Kitty Riley into a portable blast box for removal and later detonation. There were a handful of reporters and tv cameras still on the scene, recording the events that were unfolding. They made to move toward the group on the stage, but were held off by officers and security. The group left the room and made their way slowly back to Lestrade's office where Anthea, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson were waiting. He let Molly fuss over him and stitch up his head, since she was the only other doctor in the room and he didn't plan on going to the A&E.

"What now? Have you checked on Harry & the Grangers?" He looked up at the group surrounding him. Mycroft, Mummy, Anthea, and Lestrade were near the door obviously planning while Anthea typed rapidfire instructions on her phone. Sherlock was sitting on the floor at his feet, Mrs. Hudson clucking from the desk chair, while Molly finished stitching him, assisted by one of the medics.

"They are fine John. Mr. and Mrs. Granger have already checked in. They were watching the interview at their dental practice. Mrs. Granger is picking them up from school as we speak. Next, we give our statements and then we are sending you home." Anthea replied to his questions without missing a beat in her texting.

The rest of the day went exactly as predicted. Five hours later John, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson made their way through the black door of 221. Sherlock helped a still off balance John up the stairs while Mrs. Hudson moved into the kitchen to start tea. John immediately went into the bedrom and removed the bloody suit he still wore, exchanging it for his usual jeans and jumper. He sank back into his chair just as Mrs. Hudson brought the tea into the room.

"You are a saint, Mrs. Hudson." She smiled as she handed him his tea. "Just this once, mind you, because you're injured, I'm not your housekeeper."

Both John and Sherlock smiled. "Of course not. You're Harry's Gran and like a second mother to me. You are invaluable."

She blushed, and waved off John's comment. "Oh you! That knock on the head has addled your brains!"

She bustled off, but John could tell she was pleased and touched by his words. They really should tell her these things more often, he thought.

He looked over at Sherlock, who was stretched out on the couch, fingers steepled in his thinking pose. "Sherlock, you alright?"

Sherlock glanced at him, before returning his eyes back to the ceiling above him. "Obviously, as I'm not the one with the head wound. However, I would appreciate your silence, I need to think."

John was slightly taken aback. That was the sharpest Sherlock had been with him since his return. Looked like the honeymoon phase was over then. He sipped his tea. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Sherlock sneered.

"Try to shut me out because you got a scare today. We've been through too much in the last five years. Too much hurt on both our parts. We don't need to inflict it on each other. Frankly I'm not going to accept it anymore. I'm neither your assistant nor your lapdog, and I think I've shown on several occasions that I'm your equal if not your superior in many ways. I won't let you push me back into that place where I don't know what's happening or what to expect. I asked you today if we were in this together, and you said from now on, so don't go leaving me behind again."

With that said, John got up and walked toward the bedroom. He took his tea and his laptop with him and shut the door behind himself leaving Sherlock to his thoughts. He settled on his side of the bed and worked on the commisioned book for a while, before setting his phone alarm to wake him in two hours. He definately had a concussion and would need to be woken throughout the night, but a two hour nap sounded blissful. Maybe Sherlock would be in a better mood when he woke up.

* * *

**_A/N: Kinda short, but more tomorrow. I don't actually know what happened here, but apparently our boys are going to have "the talk"._**


	37. The Talk

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I don't even know what this is, but here you go. This beast of a chapter gave me fits! Trigger warning for description of suicidal thoughts and actions though I think it's pretty tame. Please let me know what you think and any ideas or questions you have. Until next time, gentle viewers enjoy!_**

* * *

John roused easily when his phone alarm went off. He knew that was a good sign for his head injury. He made his way back into the sitting room to find Sherlock still in the same position as when he had exited the room earlier, though he immediately sat up and gave John his attention. John walked over and settled into his chair. He had a vague thought that he should probably have made tea for this discussion, but knew if he tried to do it now, Sherlock wouldn't be willing to wait.

"You were right." Sherlock started. "You did scare me today and we both know that is not something that is easy for me to admit."

John sighed. "Look, Sherlock, I know that you don't do feelings, I get that, but you have to understand that you can't just lash out every time you don't know what to do with a feeling."

"I..John...I..." For the first time, Sherlock looked unsure, vulnerable even.

"Everything I did John, from the moment I sent you out of the lab to Baker Street, was to keep you safe. I did what I thought was necessary, even though I knew you would be hurt by my actions."

John let out a harsh laugh. "Hurt by your actions? I wasn't hurt Sherlock, I was devastated! I had built almost my entire life around you, around us. The first month, I didn't leave the flat. The only person I could stand was Mrs. Hudson. I completely cut off Lestrade, Molly, anyone that had anything to do with you. Mycroft kept me under survelliance, did you know? Then I had to deal with the fallout, even though I didn't have any of the answers they wanted. I never have the answers, because I never really know what's going on, not completely."

John took a moment to calm himself down a bit and Sherlock didn't speak. "There was one night, in the middle of the investigation of all your cases. I'd spent all day at the Yard going over and over the details, what I could piece together of your thought processes, the evidence that you had left in your journals and papers. I was sitting in the middle of the floor, going through the papers, trying to sort them for each case that you had done. I was drinking, I'd had half a bottle of the good scotch Mycroft gave me for Christmas, and I thought, why? Why should I keep feeling like this, dealing with all the crap, when no one else was around to care. So I got up and went to the medicine cabinent and pulled out every bottle of pills we had in the flat. Went to my room and had them in my hand, I was ready, so ready to end it all. Because what did I have left? I sat there for an hour and I remembered. Every stupid row that we'd ever had, and the mad chases across rooftops, and the giggling at crime scenes. You wearing a sheet in Buckingham Palace and stealing that ashtray. I remembered it all, because that's how it was supposed to be. I was so very close to taking those pills too, seconds away, and then I remembered that last conversation, you standing on that bloody roof, telling me it was a magic trick. A magic trick...don't look away, keep your eyes on me. Why else would you have made me watch? That's what pulled me back, you know, the possibility of a magic trick, that things weren't what I thought they were. I didn't think you were alive, but God, I hoped."

John's voice was a bit shaky now, so he cleared his throat before continuing. "I hoped and I moved on. I went to the cemetary and said goodbye. Then Harry came along and I had another reason to get on with things. He saved me as much as you did after Afghanistan. I've been alone Sherlock, and I've been lonely and at my wit's end, but I also figured out that you hold onto those things precious to you with both hands and you fight for them, because once they're gone, you may not get them back. Not everyone gets a second chance, not everyone lives twice. So I'm going to fight for you and I'm going to hold on tight, but I need you to do the same. I need you to fight with me, not against me, and to hold on tight and to never let go again."

After he was done, John looked at Sherlock. The look on his face was similar to what John imagined his face reflected during that first month after the fall. There was absolute loss there. Sherlock's breathing was rapid and ragged.

"I...today, when you shot Reilly and stood there, I thought that everything I had worked so hard for, left behind, given up would be gone in a matter of seconds. I was an idiot for not anticipating that something would happen. I underestimated her once, how could I do it again? I failed you, John. When everything was supposed to be okay, at the first opportunity, I failed you! Twenty months worth of work and doing everything I did and already I failed you! I can't...I can't let you down again. Don't you see? You told me friends protect each other but I couldn't protect you. What can I possibly do that will be enough? You...John, you nearly weren't anymore. You wouldn't have been here when I came home and then what would I have done? It was for you and I don't know how to explain that any better!"

Sherlock had stood up and started to pace, arms gesticulating wildly, hands tugging at his hair. He was frustrated with his inability to communicate. Nothing was coming out the way he wanted. This continued for a few minutes, until John rose and blocked his path, pulling his hands out of his hair.

"I get it, you don't have to explain anymore. You didn't fail me today Sherlock, it was just my turn to do the protecting. I had the opportunity, the best chance of a favorable outcome as you would say, so I took it. Sometimes it will be your turn and you'll do what needs to be done." Sherlock had begun to match his breathing to John's, letting the quiet words wash over him and as they did, he let them begin to calm him down.

"I'm sorry, John." John looked into those sea glass colored eyes. "I know."

"So what now? How do I fix this?" Sherlock was completely out of his depth and he knew it. Feelings were John's area.

"You don't, we do. Together. Come on." John pulled him over to the couch and they sat side by side. John thought about how to approach the rest of the conversation before he started talking.

"Alright, how about this? We'll take turns, you have to be completely honest, do the best you can to explain, yeah?" Sherlock nodded.

"Okay, right. My biggest problem is that you don't tell me what's going on in that massive brain of yours. You keep secrets and you lie to me. I hate that. I want full honesty from you from now on. You're going to have to earn back my trust and that's going to take a while, but you'll have to deal with it."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "You don't trust me John?"

John frowned, then sighed. "Yes and no. I trust you with my life and with Harry. I don't trust you to always tell me the truth or to make decisions that affect us without consulting me first."

"Understood. My biggest problem is that I don't know how to do this part? I don't know what to do with all these feelings and sentiment. I'm going to need you to help me with that. It's not my area."

They both chuckled a bit at that. "Okay. I know I've said this before, but Harry comes first, always. That means I may not be available to run off with you on the spur of the moment, or fetch you things when you're too lazy to get them yourself. No more three a.m. violin screeching or body parts in the fridge. No shooting the walls. Experiments and chemicals stay in the basement and Harry is absolutely off limits to experiment on. No testing his magic and whatnot."

"Agreed. I'll need to get a fridge for the basement then. I can do more of the dangerous experiments at Bart's lab. But I want to teach him science and deduction. I don't want him to grow up to be like all the other idiots in the world. You have to let me." Sherlock practically demanded it, but John smiled.

"Science experiements approved by me ahead of time only. And only if he's interested. He's already learned some deduction from Mycroft and his own experience." Sherlock nodded.

"When you go back to work, I'll help out as much as I can, but I need you to be more aware of the danger you put yourself in. You refused to listen when we told you not to get involved with Moriarty. It was a game to you. I need you to listen to us when we tell you to pull back. Be more cautious, please. I don't think any of us can stand to go through that again." John stated this quietly, expecting Sherlock to balk.

Sherlock stiffened, but after analyzing what John was saying, he relaxed again. "I will not promise anything, but I will try to be more cautious."

That was better than John was expecting. "One other thing. Could you try to work a little harder at not offending people, especially the yarders? I won't ask you to go so far as to get along with them, just keep personal deductions to yourself. Don't attack unless provoked. Quite a few of them went to bat for you when everything hit the fan, so they are obviously not all idiots, but just try, yeah?"

That was an interesting piece of information that he hadn't known. He wondered who had backed him, besides the obvious of Lestrade and John. "If I must. But not Anderson. He's fair game. His stupidity knows no bounds after all."

John just shook his head and chuckled. "Fair enough. Now what do you want for dinner?"

They called for takeaway from the Sherlock's favorite thai place, then watched crap telly, all the while Sherlock's comments and sidenotes about the programs kept John in stitches. He finally retired to bed after reminding Sherlock to wake him every two hours. (He set his phone alarm anyway). He went to bed alone for the first time since Sherlock returned, but he honestly didn't mind. Sherlock had pulled out his violin, inspecting it carefully, before tuning it and beginning to play calming lullaby-like songs well into the night.


	38. Reassurance

Harry woke up just after the sun on his first morning with the Grangers. They had told him last night that something had happened during the press conference but refused to let him watch any of the footage that the various news stations were showing. They tried to assure him that no one was hurt and promised that he could call home this morning. He was very worried about his Papa and 'Lock though they were supposed to be okay.

He got up quietly, so as not to wake Hermione, who slept on the twin bed his trundle bed was usually underneath. He slid his feet into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen. Both of the adult Grangers were already up and drinking their coffee. They looked over to him when he entered. "Can I call Papa now, please."

Mrs. Granger smiled softly while Mr. Granger went over to the house phone and dialed John's cell phone number. It rang three times before being picked up with a sleepy sounding "'Lo?"

"Hey John, it's Chris. Harry wanted to call last night, but you were still at the Yard. We told him he could call this morning, first thing. Didn't expect it to be quite this early though." They both chuckled a bit before there was rustling in the background and then a distinct deep baritone could be heard. "John who is it?"

"It's Harry. He wants to talk to us." Chris heard more rustling before the distinctive click to speakerphone from their end. He handed the phone over to Harry, who had been chewing on his lip and looking rather worried while waiting for the adults to get it together.

"Harry? You there?" John's voice was still a bit rough, but he cleared his throat while waiting for Harry to answer.

"Papa? Lock? What happened? Are you okay?" The questions rushed out. "I want to come home!"

He couldn't help the slight whine in his voice. He wanted to be with his parents right now. He felt safe with them and after what happened yesterday, he just wanted his Papa. "Harry, calm down. We are fine."

Surprisingly, it was Sherlock's voice that Harry heard. "I wanna come home, Lock. Please."

John and Sherlock looked at each other. They were now sitting up in bed, side by side, with John's phone held in his hand between them. They could hear the distress in Harry's tone and while John wanted to immediately give in and let him come home, one head shake from Sherlock was all it took to remind him of why that was a bad idea.

"Harry, you know that you can't come home at the moment, though I wish you could. I need you to stick it out for a little longer, buddy. Can you do that?" John used his bedside tone, trying to keep Harry calm, but the words were obviously not what he wanted to hear.

"No! I want to come home! Right now, Papa!" The Grangers were a bit startled when Harry's voice suddenly rose. There were quiet tears rolling down his round cheeks and his breathing was a bit labored. He was clearly trying to control himself but it wasn't quite working. When his little shoulders sagged and a stern voice could be heard from the phone, they raised their eyebrows at each other when it became clear that it was Sherlock's stern voice that could be heard.

"Harry James Potter, it is unacceptable for you to speak to your Papa like that." John looked at Sherlock like he had grown a second head. He had no idea that Sherlock even knew that particular tone of voice or phrasing of name. Sherlock just smirked and winked at him.

"Sorry Lock. Sorry Papa." Came his mumbled reply.

"That's better. Now, we are not able to bring you home at the moment, but what if we met you for lunch? You could hug your Papa and assure yourself that he is okay. Would that be satisfactory?" John smiled at him. Apparently Sherlock understood Harry's need for reassurance after all.

A sigh from Harry and then a quiet "Yes, please."

"Right. Harry, let me talk to Mr. Granger again and we'll see what we can do about lunch. I love you." John, still using his calming tone, told him.

"Love you too, Papa." Harry handed the phone back to Mr. Granger and walked over to Mrs. Granger when she held out her arms. She pulled him up into her lap and wiped his face before giving him a reassuring squeeze. Together they listened to Mr. Granger make plans to meet John and Sherlock for lunch.

"Chris, sorry about that. He's not handling this very well and we didn't need a magical incidence on our hands to top it all off. Could you meet us at Angelo's around noon? We'll be able to get in, but the press won't. If you get there ahead of us, they won't know that you're even there."

"No worries John. I'll have to bring Hermione too, but we'll get there around a quarter till just to be safe. He'll be alright, I think, just needs to see you for himself to check that you're okay."

"Thanks, mate. We'll see you then." They disconnected the call and Chris filled in Kate and Harry on what the plan was. After a few more minutes of cuddles, Hermione came down the stairs and joined them at the breakfast table. The rest of the morning carried on from there, with Kate dropping the two at school for the morning and promising that Chris would be there to pick them up in time for their lunch date.

Harry's morning at school crawled by. He didn't join in as he usually did during morning circle time and Hermione tried to cheer him up to no avail. She was unhappy that her friend was so sad but knew that he would be okay once he saw his Papa and Lock. They both ran to greet Mr. Granger when he arrived at half past eleven to pick them up and they all quickly made their way a few blocks down to Angelo's. They didn't see any reporters when they slipped in but ten minutes later, the front of the restaurant was filled with flashbulbs and shouted questions. Angelo met them at the door, helping John and Sherlock through the mob and locking the door against the reporters.

The other customers in the restaurant were interested to see who the fuss was about but no one approached them. They continued to watch while Angelo escorted the two men into the alcove booth hidden from the front of the restaurant by a large privacy screen and potted plants. "Thank you, Angelo! This is perfect."

John patted the much larger man on the arm before turning to Harry, who had launched himself out of the booth and was making his way over. He swept him up in his arms and squeezed him tightly. Placing a kiss on his forehead over the scar, John set him back down and watched as he turned to Sherlock. The tall detective stooped down and gave him a hug as well. The motion once again surprising John with how natural it was performed.

He had expected Sherlock to balk at the physical affection shown to him by Harry but was constantly surprised and delighted that Sherlock seemed to have no qualms about accepting and returning it. "Better now, Harry?"

The small boy nodded and they settled into the large booth. John and Sherlock told the very edited version of yesterday's events while their server brought out the small salads for them to eat before their meal. Harry chattered in his usual manner now that he had been assured that his parents were in fact unharmed.

Harry was the happiest he had ever remembered being since he had come to live with John. He had heard stories of Sherlock and was excited to meet him when he finally came back from defeating the bad guys. He made Papa very happy and Harry felt like they were a proper family. Owen in his class had two moms, so Harry thought it would be okay if he had two dads. He would have to talk to Hermione and figure out what he could call 'Lock.

When they finished their lunches and had another round of hugs and kisses, the two men left after promising to call that night before bedtime. The three remaining waited for twenty minutes or so, lingering over the dessert Chris had indulged them in before leaving through the back door and being escorted to the street by one of Angelo's sons. They walked in the opposite direction of Baker Street and were quite oblivious to the lingering reporter who followed them to the park snapping pictures randomly.

Said reporter was equally oblivious to the two highly trained SAS agents trailing him as he trailed the small group. He caught on quickly when he was grabbed and thrown into the back of an unmarked black sedan after being stripped of his camera equipment. He pushed himself up by his arms and found himself only a few feet away from Mycroft Holmes. "Mr. Stanley, how nice of you to join me. If you would be so kind, I would appreciate you telling me how you found out about my nephew."

The predatory smile that spread across the haughty face sent chills running down his spine and it took only seconds for the information to come spilling out. Tad Anderson was going to be hurting big time when the Holmes' got their hands on him.

* * *

**_Hello Lovelies! Sorry about the wait! RL is a bit busy at the moment. This chapter is for Dark Neko 4000 who asked for how Harry would react to what happened at the press conference, Kai19 who didn't really request lots of hugging but got it anyway, Chibi-Daydreamer who asked for more Sherlock & Harry (Sherlock went all parental!), Fire Dolphin who wanted more bonding moments between the three of them (don't know if this counts, but here is my offering to you, I'll keep working on it!) and finally for Rollicking Skater who asked for Harry's viewpoint way back in chapter 33! (It took a while, Harry wasn't really "talking" to me if you know what I mean, but I finally got there). The soundtrack for this chapter (and most of the story really) is Mumford & Son's Babel album. As for Anderson...dun dun dun!_**

**_Also, 500 followers as of yesterday! You like me! You really like me! Thank you soooo much for all of your support for this story! We have a long way to go until the end! _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! (And review. I read every single one and they make my day!)_**


	39. The Fall of Dalek Anderson

Sherlock and John had made it back to Baker Street after their lunch with Harry and two of the Grangers. The boy had seemed to be back to normal by the time they left, though John still suspected that he was worried about something. Maybe he would open up about it once they all got home and settled into a routine.

The reporters had been camped out on their doorstep before they'd awoken this morning, though they had both expected that. John had frozen for a moment at the sight that had greeted him when he'd opened the door, his mind taking him back to the time immediately following Sherlock's fall. The touch of Sherlock's hand on his back propelling him forward had broken him out of the memories quickly though. They'd caught the cab, having called Angelo earlier in the morning to let him know what was happening. The reporters had followed, motorbikes surrounding the cab despite the lunch hour traffic. They'd both pretended to be engrossed in their phones, looking nowhere but there. In truth they were sending each other texts to communicate rather than risk having their lips read (correctly or incorrectly).

The return home had been almost identical, but they were now stretched out on the furniture of their flat. John was typing up a blog entry about the past few days and Sherlock's return while Sherlock lay on the couch "organizing his mind palace" as he'd told John. As a result, he did not move when his phone vibrated an incoming text on the table followed quickly by several more.

John set aside his laptop and reached for Sherlock's phone. Six texts from Mycroft. John opened the first one and read through them all quickly. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock actually startled, not that he would ever admit to doing so. "John."

His tone was bored until he looked at the panic and anger on John's face. John held out the phone to Sherlock who read through the messages before looking back at his blogger. "I always knew Anderson was an idiot, but I never could have imagined he'd be this stupid. Mycroft is going to eviscerate him! Oh, John! It's Christmas!" Sherlock had an unholy gleeful look on his face.

"You're going to let Mycroft handle this? Really? That bastard told the press about Harry! He's put him in danger, even if he didn't know it! I'm going to bloody murder him! You can help me hide the body." John was red faced and angry, definitely in overprotective parent mode.

Sherlock stood up and walked over to the shorter man, putting his hands on those broad shoulders. "John, don't exaggerate. Anderson only told one member of the press about Harry. I would of course be able to hide his body so that it was never found and be able to get you out of a murder conviction as well, however, think about this for a moment. As much as I loathe my brother, he can absolutely destroy Anderson and he has already extended an invitation to let us watch. John, MYCROFT is doing legwork! You know how he hates that! Besides, no more Anderson mucking up my crime scenes or lowering the IQ of everyone in a two block radius!"

Sherlock twirled away from John, once again gathering up his things in preparation for going down to the yard. John let Sherlock's words sink in and started to see a small bit of humor in the situation. He had never liked Anderson and since the episode at Halloween he had actively tried to avoid him when possible. He'd told Sherlock once that he always heard "hit me" when Sherlock spoke, but John always heard "shoot me" whenever Anderson spoke. John managed to calm himself down and they once again exited their home, this time headed to Scotland Yard and the Fall of Tad Anderson.

Sally Donovan knocked on DI Lestrade's open door with a sense of purpose she hadn't had in awhile. She walked in at his invitation and closed the door behind her. His eyebrows went up slightly at the action, his door was rarely closed. "Sally. What's up?"

She settled in the chair in front of his desk analyzing once again what she was about to tell her boss. "Anderson told me something earlier that I thought you needed to know. He said that he told his brother-in-law about the boy that lives with Dr. Watson. It wouldn't be a big deal, only his brother-in-law works at one of the newspapers as a photographer. Harry wasn't at the press conference yesterday, so it seemed that Dr. Watson was trying to keep him out of it, so I didn't think they'd want the press to know about him. Anderson crossed the line, sir. This could endanger the boy and no matter who his guardians are, that's not okay."

Greg ran his hands over his face. He knew for a fact that John and Sherlock didn't want the press to know about Harry. Oh buggery fuck, this was not good at all. "Thank you, Sergeant Donovan. I'll address it to the higher ups immediately and let John and Sherlock know as well. Let me know if you hear anything else about it."

Sally rose with a nod and exited the office closing the door behind her once again. Greg picked up his phone and placed a call to his immediate supervisor first, Mycroft was next on the list, though he only got voicemail in both cases. He then called John and Sherlock, surprised that they were already en route. He was standing in front of the Chief Superintendent's door fifteen minutes later. Mycroft was seated already. They brought Greg up to speed on what had happened and he told them how he'd found out. By the time Sherlock and John arrived, Greg, Mycroft, the Chief and several other higher ups were seated around the large table in the conference room. The two men were shown in and updated on the decisions that had been made.

When Anderson was summoned from his desk by a constable to meet the Chief in the conference room he thought he might actually be getting that promotion he had been working for. When he walked into the room though, his hopes were immediately cut down to nothing. When he saw both Holmes' and Watson there along with the highest of the high at NSY his stomach actually plummeted. Holmes (the one that was supposed to be dead) had a look on his face like it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one.

*"Dalek Anderson! How awful to see you again! I heard our four year old told you off! Congratulations! The fact that you felt the need to target him in an attempt to make yourself feel superior only proves my prior assessment of your intelligence level." * Sherlock was giving off a slightly manic smile, which turned to a scowl when John told him to shut it and Greg visibly kicked him under the table. There were snickers from various other people at the table, though whether it was from Sherlock's comments or his reprimand, no one could really say.

"Dr. Anderson, it has been brought to our attention that you informed a member of the press about the residence of a minor in Dr. Watson's custody." The Chief had a neutral look on his face, but that didn't make Anderson sweat any less.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was shaky and his eyes bounced between the people at the table.

"Dr. Anderson, we have proof of your actions. You have only been granted this inquiry to tell your side of the story. If you persist in lying to us, you will immediately be placed under arrest until your sentencing." The Chief told him in a huff. Anderson looked around the table again, his eyes settling on the elder Holmes. Mycroft Holmes had intimidated Anderson on the few times he had seen the man around the Yard or at a crime scene, but he had never felt the weight of those eyes on him or been addressed in that tone that he knew was only slightly above glacial.

"I might have mentioned something about him to my brother-in-law over a pint last night."

"Interesting, Dr. Anderson. We have Mr. Stanley in custody. He said you not only mentioned that Dr. Watson was now guardian to a child, but that the child was, and I quote "Like the Freak. Something is off about him. Find out what you can and then you can have the exclusive." The chief read the words off of one of the papers he had in front of him before looking at Anderson again.

"Well, the brat is weird. I thought he was the Freak's son the first time I saw him." Anderson fidgeted in his chair. The glares he received from the Holmes/Watson contingent growing even stronger.

"Mr. Stanley also stated that you told him "They are trying to keep the mini-freak from the press. Don't want you to know about him. That's why he wasn't at the press conference today." The Chief read and then looked up once again.

"Um...well that much is true. They are trying to hide him or something about him." Anderson knew he wouldn't be able to defend himself.

"Tell me, Dr. Anderson, did you ever wonder why the minor's guardians may not have wanted the press to know about him?" One of the HR managers asked him.

"No." Anderson adjusted in his seat again.

"The reason, Anderson, that we didn't want the press to know about Harry is that his parents were murdered, their killer still at large, and he was then abused by his Aunt and Uncle for years before coming to live with me. You would have effectively put a bullseye on his back for whoever already tried to kill him." John's voice was quiet when he spoke, but underneath there was an edge of steel that even Anderson, as dim as he might be, knew to be wary of.

"Now that you understand the situation fully, Dr. Anderson, do you admit that you endangered a minor with your actions?" The Chief asked him.

"I didn't know." Anderson practically yelled it, sounding like a toddler.

"That has never been a good enough excuse. Answer the question, Dr. Anderson. Did you, knowingly or not, endanger the life of a child with your actions?" The Chief asked again.

"It seems so." He was shaking now. This was going to be very very bad.

"You have had two previous suspensions in the last year. One incident already involving this minor. It has been extensively noted by your colleagues that you verbally attacked him unprovoked. The second, also extensively documented, was a verbal attack on Dr. Watson, a civilian, despite direct orders from your superior to cease and desist. Is this correct?" The HR director asked him.

"Yes that is correct."

"With that information and your own confession of child endangerment we have no choice but to inform you that you are terminated from your position with New Scotland Yard immediately. Dr. Watson has decided to press charges against you for child endangerment as well as invasion of privacy, so you are also under arrest. Constable Barclay, if you will."

"You can't do that! I've worked years to get where I am. Then this ex druggie Freak starts showing up at crime scenes telling us how to do our jobs! He was supposed to be dead! Now he's back and I'm the one going to jail! For telling about a kid living with the Freak's sidekick? No! It's not right! He should be the one in jail! He's the psychopath!" Anderson had jumped up from his chair. He was in a full blown panic as well as being angry.

Mycroft spoke in that icy tone that had earned him his nickname. "I could offer to handle your case myself Dr. Anderson. However, you would not simply get jail time for your offenses. You have threatened my family and as a member of the Government, we are afforded immunity in certain situations, you understand."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward trying to understand what the posh git was telling him.

"It means Dr. Anderson, that I could torture you, murder you, and use your entrails to decorate this room, with all of these people as witnesses, and the law would not be able to touch me. That is the kind of power that rests behind the Holmes name. If I were you, Dr. Anderson, I would thank Dr. Watson for pressing charges. If he hadn't, you would have been released into the custody of MI-6. Our Mother is in charge there. She is more vicious than my dear brother or I could ever hope to be and she is ever so protective of her family." Mycroft never raised his voice, but the words and tone of voice, along with the pleasant smile similar to what one would give to their companion over tea, assured Anderson that this man was telling him the absolute truth.

"So I can be arrested now or I can turn myself over to MI-6?" He refused to think about what would happen if he put himself at the mercy of the Holmes family.

"Precisely, Dr. Anderson." Mycroft replied in that same tone.

"I'll stay at the Yard then." He turned and nodded to the constable in the corner.

The constable that had escorted him from his desk came forward and cuffed a numb Anderson before escorting him from the room. There was silence for a moment, before John stood and thanked the members of Scotland Yard before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Sherlock looked at Mycroft who just raised his eyebrows in reply. Sherlock followed quickly after John, leaving Greg and Mycroft to schmooze with the higher ups.

Mycroft hated showing his hand, but it seemed that Dr. Anderson was indeed as stupid as his brother had always accused him of being. He and Greg stayed and worked their charm on the 'important' people putting their minds at ease about any repercussions coming their way stemming from Dr. Anderson's actions.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! Who has the best readers? This girl! I asked for reviews and my email alert hasn't stopped dinging! Thank you all so much for your comments! Hope you enjoyed this. I thought about really going for blood, but then I remembered this was supposed to be fluffy, so I reluctantly reigned in my dark side._**

**_The dressing down from Sherlock is provided courtesy of Kai19 who agreed to let me use one of her review comments. Thank you! (It's marked with asterisks!)_**

**_I updated the first three chapters, nothing in the plot changed (I don't think so anyway) but i think it's easier to read and flows better with the rest of the story. _**

**_If you have anything you specifically want to see while Harry is still small, speak your mind now. I think there will only be a few more chapters before we start jumping in time by years instead of months. The plan is to be at Hogwarts by CH 50, otherwise this will turn into a hundred chapter behemoth that I'm not quite prepared for! _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! _**


	40. Domesticated

It had taken Sherlock several hours and one trip to Tesco's for jam, milk, and biscuits before John was able to calm himself down enough to think about the situation reasonably. He knew he was overreacting since the situation was already in hand, but he couldn't help the protective instincts that rose to the surface. It seemed that when it came to Harry he had all the protective instincts that any parent would have. It helped lighten his mood when Sherlock had come back to flat after leaving without a word with a Tesco's bag in hand, looking like he had just been told he had a locked room triple murder handed to him. "John! I bought milk!"

John had heard him come in the door downstairs and upon his exclamation he turned from the sink where he was viciously scrubbing an already clean plate to see his flatmate and best friend staring at him triumphantly. He was smiling like a loon and held the bag aloft so that John would be sure to see the aforementioned milk. John blinked, then promptly burst out laughing.

Sherlock set the bag on the table and turned to pull him into his arms, joining the chuckling he still heard from his roomate. They stood for several minutes, Sherlock's arms around John's shoulders, Johns around his waist. "He'll be alright John. Mycroft stopped anything from getting out."

John pulled back. "I know. But what about next time or the time after that? What happens when some other enemy of ours finds out and tries to use him against us?"

Sherlock nodded, knowing John was probably right. "We'll figure it out. We don't have to make all the decisions tonight. You know as well as I do, John, that the future is unpredictable. We'll deal with it as it comes. Now I bought the milk, you make the tea."

"Git." John grinned as he turned to make the tea and put away the other items Sherlock had purchased. Sherlock made his way into the other room and pulled the nearest laptop (John's) into his lap and proceeded to look at the comments on John's blog. John listened as he randomly read comments or snorted at them in disgust before making an off color comment of some sort.

John could feel his mood lifting. He fixed their tea and carried it and some of the biscuits in to Sherlock before settling next to him on the sofa. They passed an hour or so looking over the blog, answering comments and deleting others. Sherlock eventually handed the laptop off to John and moved to the corner where his violin sat in it's case. It was one of the things he missed most while he had been gone and he was looking forward to playing again.

He went through his preparations methodically before finally tucking the instrument under his chin and raising his bow. He glanced over at John who had closed the laptop and was watching him. He began to play; the tune was one of his own compositions. Closing his eyes he let himself get lost in the music.

John watched Sherlock play, a sight that he had sorely missed. When the first haunting note sounded, he closed his eyes and listened. The first piece was melancholy, with hints of loneliness and longing. The second was sweet, slightly more upbeat, and it made him feel content. When that changed into the third, he couldn't help but smile. It was lively, and happy and fast. It reminded him of Harry. When Sherlock finally finished he but his instrument away carefully and turned to John.

"Those were new. You've never played them before." Sherlock walked over into his arm chair and sat, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on them.

"I composed the first and second while I was gone, the third while we were at the manor. That one is for Harry." He smirked at John.

"I thought it sounded like him." John closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch. "You'll have to play it for him when he gets home. He'll love it."

The rest of their week was spent quietly. Sherlock set up his lab in 221 C, which took the better part of two days before he was happy. The talked to Harry at least once a day. John blogged cases they had completed before the whole Moriarty debacle had happened. Sherlock played his violin for John in the evenings, and John kept Sherlock in warm tea. The week was one of the best he could remember.

* * *

A few blocks away, Harry was having an equally great week. He and Hermione were in the back garden. Her mum had spread a blanket in the shade of a tree and they had brought out several books and games. He decided it was finally time to ask Hermione if she had any ideas of what he could call Sherlock. "'Mione, do you think I should call 'Lock Dad?"

She looked up from her book at his question. "Do you want to call him Dad?"

Harry shifted. "Maybe. I dunno. I call John Papa like you said. Sherlock is kinda like my other Papa, but if I called him that, they wouldn't know which one I was talking to right?"

She thought about it before nodding. "There are other names instead of Dad. What about Father?"

Harry shook his head and scrunched his nose. "No, that's what Uncle Mycroft calls their Dad and I don't think 'Lock liked him very much. What else?"

She tapped her finger against her lips. "What about Da? That's what my cousins call their Dad."

Harry thought about it. He liked that it was short. He could always go back to Dad if he didn't like it. He grinned at 'Mione. "I think I like that one."

She smiled back at him. "Come on, lets go see if my Mum will let us have a snack."

As the two four year olds made their way inside it was with a sense of great accomplishment in being able to solve this problem on their own.

* * *

By the time John and Sherlock walked up to the front door of the Granger's house at the end of the week, they could both admit that they had missed Harry. Between Mycroft, the Yard, and not leaving the flat since the day of Anderson's firing, the press had quickly given up and cleared off their front stoop. It probably helped that there was some sort of royal picture scandal (nothing to do with Irene Adler this time, thankfully).

They were ushered in by Kate and met with the whirlwind that was an excited Harry. "Papa!"

Harry slammed into John's legs before practically climbing him like a tree until he was in his arms. They both had enormous smiles on their faces and John gave him a tight squeeze before turning to where Sherlock stood. "Hi love, we missed you."

Harry looked over at Sherlock. "Hi Da!"

John laughed at the look on Sherlock's face. The taller man looked away from Harry to meet John's eyes. "John! He just..."

This was the first time John had ever seen the look of shock and awe on Sherlock's face. If possible, it was even happier than the look he had worn at the news of Anderson's demise. He could relate to exactly what he was feeling in that moment. Sherlock reached for Harry who practically lept into his arms. He gave to boy a grin and a squeeze.

"So you're calling me Da now?" Sherlock grinned at the small boy.

Harry looked uncertain all of a sudden. "Is that okay?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Of course it is. It'll drive Mycroft around the bend! Oh you clever boy!"

The rest of the adults laughed at his antics and Harry shot a relieved glance down at his best friend.

"Mione helped me. She told me lots of names and I chose that one." Harry beamed at his new Da.

"Well Hermione is a very clever girl. Between the two of you, I'm sure you could work out the toughest of problems in no time." This earned him a grin from each child.

They said their thank yous and goodbyes not long after and finally made their way back to Baker Street.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello Lovelies! I owe you an apology for dropping off the map like I've done! I'm so so sorry for that! I have not abandoned this fic and do not plan to do so. Let's just say that RL is kicking my butt and has been throwing a few curveballs in the last few weeks. I can't promise that I'll get back to updating as quickly as I was, but I'll do my best to get new chapters up faster. _**

**_The wonderful Arrylinda is translating this story into french. Merci for all of your hard work on that! _**

**_This is also cross posted on AO3 up to chapter 10 (I think.) _**

**_Until next time, gentle viewers, enjoy! _**


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